


What the FUck Even is This

by whittler_of_words



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Dramatic Irony, God I love that tag, Grimdark, Horror, Horrorterrors - Freeform, Humanstuck, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Major Mental Manipulation, Minor Mental Manipulation, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death, Tricksters, Weird Blood Shit, dave would understand, fucking crows, i guess, i guess?, it's kind of a given for this, self-hate, which is the best kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat is a normal teenager, who lives in a normal town, who goes to a normal  school and has normal friends.</p><p>And everything. Is. Fine.<br/>_ _</p><p>Karkat is an abnormal boy trying desperately to live a normal life. Can't a guy get a god damn fucking break?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A FUcking Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Really short first chapter. Not even a chapter. It's a prologue. It's a REALLY SHORT prologue.
> 
> ITS NOT EVEN ONE PAGE BUT WHO GIVES A FUCK?!

You see things that don't make any sense, and probably mean nothing.

That's right. Nothing. Hallucinations are only real when you acknowledge them, right? So like fuck are you even going to think about this any longer than it takes to finish this shitty sentence.

> Get dressed. Brush your teeth. Try to brush your hair. Fail to brush your hair: it can not be tamed. Go downstairs. Eat breakfast. Brush your teeth again. Shout a goodbye to Dad. Wait for bus.

> Board bus. Sit in usual seat. Get to school. Sit through boring classes. Eat lunch with friends. Sit through more boring classes. Board bus. Get home. Greet the Dad on the couch. Avoid a conversation with the Dad on the couch. Lock yourself in your room. Contemplate an empty and meaningless existence.

> Try to ignore the way the presence of everyone on the block is an incessant buzz in your head. Disregard the sound of heartbeats in your ears, the ever present tha-dump, tha-dump that follows you every waking second, _thump thump thump thump-_

> Fail to get much sleep.

> Rinse.

> Repeat.


	2. A FUcking Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another fUcking chapter

There's a new guy in town. You haven't seen him yet, but the people who have say he's Cool, Mysterious, and Always Wears Shades. You sort of dislike him immediately. If past examples are anything to go by, he'll just be another douche who thinks he's the hottest thing since the sun.

> Get dressed. Brush your teeth. Try to brush your hair. Fail to brush your hair: it can not be tamed.

You stay in front of the mirror for a few moments, glaring at the dark bags under your eyes, purposefully ignoring your irises before moving up to the rat nest that likes to call itself your hair. Disgusting.

> Eat breakfast. Brush your teeth again. Shout a goodby to Dad. Wait for bus.

The sky is gray when you turn your head up to look at it, the air charged; there'll probably be rain in a day or two. That's good; not as much people will be outside then.

> Board bus. Sit in usual seat.

John is already there, and you sit next to him like you always do as the cacophony of heartbeats and the thrumming of blood engulfs you. It's mostly silent on the way to school; morning chatter is something you trained John out of early on for the sake of your sanity.

> Get to school. Sit through boring classes. Eat lunch with friends.

You're sitting next to John again, on the end seat because you've learned that you can't handle being sandwiched between two people for long. He's talking animatedly with Tavros, Equius and Nepeta about something or the other, and you try to focus on your lunch. You're almost done when you notice the table's gone quiet, and you look up at them to see them staring at something across the quad. 

You follow their gaze to see someone you haven't seen before. He's blond, wearing a red-and-white baseball shirt and black jeans, and you rack your brain for who he is and why your friends might be staring at him when he turns his head. Oh. So he's the Douche with Shades. You're about to go back to picking at the school salad on your plate when John makes a noise beside you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and he stands up, waving his arms wildly. “Dave!” So somehow John knows the name of the Cool Mysterious new kid. How are you not surprised? The guy who's apparently named Dave turns his head, and when he sees John he starts immediately to walk over. John rushes to get out of the bench, and the back of one of his sneakers catches on the seat so that he stumbles a few steps before righting himself just in time to throw himself at Dave. 

“Still the klutz, I see, Egderp.” John laughs and pulls back, his blush betraying what must be embarrassment now that he realizes pretty much everyone who can see is sort of staring at them. He tries to cover it up by waving his hands in the air to punctuate his words as he talks.

“Why didn't you tell me we were coming, Dave? That might have been something I would have liked to know!” Dave shrugs.

“Figured I would surprise you. I just kept imagining your face when you saw me. I should've expected you to still be a nerd with wonky teeth.” John sticks his tongue out at him.

“This is a very heartfelt reunion and all,” you break in, and Dave's eyes snap to you. At least you think they do. It's hard to tell with those dark aviators of his. “But are you actually going to introduce us to this fucker, John?”

“Yeah!” Nepeta says, leaning over Equius' lap to smile at them. “Who's your furrend?”

“Nepeta,” Equius says firmly. “I believe I've talked to you about how those cat puns are inappropriate for polite company. I urge you to stop until you know this boy better, if that comes to be the case.”

“But Equitty!” Nepeta drawls, slouching her back and pouting. “It's fuuun!”

“I would uh, have to agree with Karkat, on this one,” Tavros says, fingering his crutches nervously. “If he's your friend, he should be ours, too.”

“Oh gosh, I'm sorry guys!” John says. “This is Dave! Although you probably already guessed that, haha... We were friends a long time ago and he moved, and now he's back!” He leans in, bringing his hand to the side of his mouth and doing a stage whisper. “He likes to think he's cool, but he's actually a dork.” Dave doesn't respond, because he's still. Looking at you.

Typical.

“You got your fill yet, asshole?” You say, glaring right where his eyes should be. He shrugs slowly, almost like he's resurfacing from deep water.

“You don't see red eyes every day.” You think you catch something in his tone at the end of his sentence, but you dismiss it. 

“Unless you're me,” You correct, spearing the last of your crap salad on your fork. 

> Sit through more boring classes. Board bus. Get home. Greet the Dad on the couch.

“I'm home,” you say in the direction of the living room. You dump your backpack by the door since you've already finished all your homework, and you grab a water bottle from the kitchen before walking back out.

Your dad lays sprawled out on the couch, his bad knee propped up on a pillow as he scrolls through the channels. He puts it on mute the second your reflection shows in the screen, even though he should know by now not to bother.

“How was school?” he asks, a slightly hopeful tone in his voice, and it almost makes you break, but you keep walking.

> Avoid a conversation with the Dad on the couch. Lock yourself in your room. 

“Fine.” 

You close the door, falling on your bed with a heavy sigh. You stare up at the ceiling, your hands splayed at your side.

_Thump, thump, thump, ten feet, lying down, inactive._

_Thump thump, forty feet, standing; clot in arteries, low risk._

_Sixty feet, fifty feet, forty feet, running, stopping, low health risk._

_One hundred feet sitting thirty feet walking fifty feet iron deficiency eighty bleeding wrist pregnant strokeriskscrapedkneepapercutthump thump thump_

You throw the water bottle where a flicker of a black shadow shows in your peripheral vision, but you don't turn to see if it hit. You know it didn't, but hopefully it got the message and left. You curl up with your face to the wall, your knees touching your chest.

> Contemplate an empty and meaningless existence.

Really, what's even the point of this any more?

You stay in the same position, facing the wall, tucked in on yourself until the sun sets. You ignore your dad knocking on the door to call you for dinner, and when you don't answer he leaves. 

Why does he still try?

Why does he still have any hope for you?

You're disgusting. You make yourself sick. You're the worst excuse for a son in existence. The world would be better off without you.

You're too much of a coward to end it all.

You don't move even when the moon is at the highest point in the sky, your eyes closed but your head alive and buzzing with the rush of cells and information.

You're a freak.

>Fail to get much sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all for now, folks, see ya next time i hope you enjoyed a mutated dark-angst karkat :D more dave next chapter which u will have to wait for huehuehuehue


	3. A FUcking Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry guys the chapters get longer. I've got about 12000 words on this baby rn so look forward to that.
> 
> also i didn't think people would pay attention to this why are you here gomen for the shitty first chapters

“So what's with this cursed building I've been hearing about?”

“Oh, that! You've only been here a week so I guess you wouldn't know much about it...” John trails off there, and Dave waits, obviously expecting an answer. You sigh, putting down the rest of the sandwich that's getting to look more unappetizing by the second. Nepeta and Equius are off at some club, Tavros is at physical therapy, and John is too much of a superstitious quack to say anything beyond there.

“Every business that took up residence there failed within months. Accidents happened with no obvious cause, and eventually they would be forced to move. This happened so often that eventually no one who wanted to become a semblance of successful in their lifetime wouldn't even say its name.” Their attention turns to you, John's eyes glazing over as he gets lost in the ghost story. You try to ignore Dave's stare; something about the way you can't see most of his face behind the glasses makes you nervous. “Any homeless people who were stupid enough to set foot inside either came out with newly developed mental issues or never came back out at all. Those who come back with all of their mental facilities intact talk about seeing things that couldn't possibly be real, but refuse to say anything beyond that.” You shrug. “Or so the story goes.”

“Sounds interesting.” 

John groans.

“No. Dave. Dave, no. You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking.”

“I'm gonna check it out.” 

“No!” John says. “Didn't you hear what Karkat just said? That place is cursed!”

“I'm a big boy, Egbert. I can handle myself. You should come, too. You might even see some ghosts.”

“Well...” John looks unsure now. “Do you think there might actually be some ghosts there?”

“Yeah, man,” Dave says. “All them ghost single-ladies be looking for some hot Egbertian action. You don't want to keep the dead chicks waiting.”

“Dave, stop!” John snickers. “Fine, I'll go!” He turns to you, smiling. “You should come too, Karkat!” You're about to say something along the lines of 'hell fucking no' when you stop to consider it for a moment. You have literally nothing to do after school, and the thought of not having to face your dad for a little longer than usual sounds appealing.

“Sure, why not?” John fist pumps the air.

“This is going to be so awesome.”

///

The building looks just as abandoned as it truly is, with trash littered around it and a huge broken window on the second story. John trails behind you and Dave nervously, and you roll your eyes at him. Dave walks inside, and you follow him, only to stop inside the doorway.

You instantly regret this decision.

The inside looks like a normal decrepit room, with papers and beer bottles strewn across the floor, but you can feel... _something_ coming from deep inside the building. It instantly sets the hairs on the back of your neck on edge.

“We should leave,” You say, your voice strained. Dave kicks at where a plastic bag caught on his shoe.

“You scared, Karkles? Don't worry, I'll protect you from the dangerous murderghosts.” You scowl at him, cautiously moving inside, and John follows moments after.

“Wow, it's so creepy!” He says. You bend down to pick up a paper on the floor, flipping it over to read something written on the back.

**TH S AD S E V R W E**

The ink is smudged in certain places, making the already messy handwriting illegible except for a few letters. You drop it back to the floor, watching as the paper spins until it touches back on the ground. You follow Dave where he moves through another door, coming to a stairwell.

“Guess we're going up,” Dave says. You're behind him, with John climbing up behind you, and you're aware of his heart hammering in his chest. Dave's is steady, just as it's been since you first met him, and you're starting to wonder if his body is always in a perpetual state of calm. You're contemplating this when Dave stops in front of you, and you almost run into him. You're about to ask him why the fuck he decided the middle of a staircase is a good place for a break when you see it on the wall.

“Huh,” Dave says.

“I wonder what it means?” John asks, maneuvering so that he's next to you.

**THE SHADOWS ARE EVERYWHERE**

As if on a script, you see an inky blackness pull together at the bottom of the stairs, and you feel a choking blurriness edge in on your mind, what's the rush, why don't you stay and look at the pretty drawings, come down and _play_ \- 

Gasping, you pull yourself out of it as if you're breaking out from ice water, and you grab John and Dave's wrists and pull them up after you as you run up the stairs, ignoring their yelps of surprise. You find yourself in a hallway and you stop, looking around, and you know that it's still oozing up the stairs after you, you can hear it, why are you running, wouldn't it be so much easier to just lay down, accept your fate, everything will be f I n e- 

_There_. You barrel towards an open door, throwing them inside and slamming the door after you, and the white noise in your head cuts off instantly. You lean against the door, trying to catch your breath. 

“Was there a specific reason you decided to drag us up here, or...?” So they didn't see it. You laugh at that, hanging onto the doorknob for support. Of course they wouldn't see it, you're the crazy one here, you're the freak, why did you think they would see it? 

“Uh, Karkat, are you okay?” Wow, you were getting really carried away with the laughing there. Time to pull it together. You stand up, making sure to keep your weight on the door. 

“I'm fine.” Dave raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn't argue. You look around the room, and notice it's the one with the broken window you saw from outside. A few chairs are toppled over, a desk against a corner wall. You feel something move inside the ceiling, but when you realize it's made of flesh and blood and not shadows you dismiss it. 

Dave walks up to the window, leaning out and looking down at the ground below. A breeze blows in, and he brings one of his hands up to hold the shades on his face. 

“Dave, be careful!” Dave turns around, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at John. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's lost as the rustling in the ceiling increases in volume, and a panel drops down. 

The room suddenly seems to be filled with birds, and you bring your hands up to cover your face against beating wings. You hear a shout, and you look up to see the birds rushing out the window, all flying out at once. You catch glimpses of Dave, just enough to see him stumble back, his arms thrown out for balance a second too late, and he falls. 

Everything is silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER HAHA LOSERS
> 
> now you'll all have to wait until i get out of the shower to find out what happens >:]


	4. A FUcking Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by "get out of the shower" i totally meant "until tomorrow" haha yeah
> 
> sorry

You're out in the hallway and running down the stairs before you can even think that maybe the shadow thing that wants to kill you might actually still be there, but everything still holds that empty silence that first fell when the birds had absconded, an empty space left where Dave had been standing. You get to the bottom of the stair unaccosted, and you catch a hand on the doorframe to keep your momentum as you make the sharp right to get outside. You run out to glaring brightness, and when you use your hand to shade your eyes and you finally find Dave on the ground, your breath hitches.

You don't know what you were expecting, but it probably should have been this.

He's lying completely still on the ground, one of his arms bent awkwardly underneath him in a way that doesn't suggest it's broken. His shades are cracked but somehow still on his face, and you'd probably be frustrated at that if his hair wasn't currently being stained a bright red.

Red. Red everywhere.

The smell of it sends a shock through your system, followed by a feeling of _wrong, it shouldn't be out like that_ that's closely attached with a sense of rightness that makes you sick and that you really don't want to examine right now, and in the end it's not too hard to push it away. You kneel at his side, ignoring the blood staining your jeans as your hands hover over his chest and fucking _fuck no_ fucking _shit_

his heart isn't beating.

You hear a strangled gasp from a couple feet away, and you look up to see John with an expression of pure horror on his face, tears beginning to track their way down his cheeks.

“What are you doing, moron?!” you growl. “Go get some fucking help!” He nods once, tearing his eyes away from the bloody mess at your feet, and the second he turns away you lay your hand on Dave's chest, and you _reach_.

You will his heart to start pumping again, to push and pull his blood, and it sluggishly complies, steadily growing stronger. At the same time, you cradle the back of his head in your other hand, and you pull the blood dripping through your fingers back into the gash on his scalp, and when you're finally satisfied you knit the wound closed. By now his heart is back to it's regular rhythm, and you let go of everything at once.

It feels like you've suddenly been disconnected from a larger web, like you'd finally found something you've been looking for your whole life and then lost it again. Your head spins, and your stomach lurches in the sudden shift of balance, and you stumble back to vomit into the dirt. When the spasms finally subside, you rest your weight on your elbows as you lay back and look everywhere but Dave who's still unconscious beside you.

Your skin feels like a frayed nerve ending, every sound loud and ringing in your ears, and when you sense a group of heartbeats quickly closing in, you stand up. You definitely don't entertain the thought that your range seems to have expanded somehow, because that is something that is not fucking happening right now and will not be happening ever. Which is a perfectly good excuse as to why you don't notice the crow perched on the telephone wire, watching with gleaming eyes.

///

 

Dave is back to school by the end of the week, which is a surprise to everyone but you. He walks like nothing happened. Like his heart didn't stop and restart and for a few seconds he was technically _dead_ , which isn't that surprising to anyone because you'd taken care of that before anyone else could notice.

The first day back and he's already Mr Cool again, except this time people stop him in the halls and ask him how he is and it's a miracle you survived, someone upstairs must be looking out for you; and you want to strangle them because hello you're _right fucking here, dipshit,_ and then reason comes back to you and you remember why recognition is not a good thing, and it's not a second too late because somehow part of you was already reaching out strangle them from the inside without you noticing, and you think that _maybe_ using your freakish powers to save Dave woke it up. Whatever “it” is, anyway.

Another lesson in how you can't do anything fucking right.

You're also trying to figure out exactly where the fuck Dave is taking you.

You follow him on the sidewalk, a couple steps behind, your backpack slung over your shoulder and your hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket. He hasn't made any turns for a couple minutes now, and you rack your brain trying to remember what's over this way. There are a couple stores; a bookshop, a place for sports gear, a few grocery stores. Maybe the coffee shop nope he just passed the street to that one. That leaves only...

Your last thought is confirmed as he turns onto the park, and the presence you've felt fluttering around the edges of your range settles into a nearby tree. Damn bird. What the fuck does it take you for, a bread dispenser? You ignore it, focusing on Dave as he picks his way forward, the sound of the few playing children that are there fading to near-silence. 

He drops his backpack in the grass, leaning on an old tree behind him. You leave yours on.

It's hard to tell where he's looking with his shades on, and you feel another prick of irritation at them. Why does he always insist on wearing them? Even in class he refuses to take them off, and the teachers don't even say anything about it. It always makes you uneasy, too; is he looking at you? Looking behind you? Looking in a completely different fucking direction? You like to know where you stand with people, and everything about him is just one blank slate of non-emotion. It drives you fucking crazy.

“So why did you take me to a place where no once could hear me scream?” You ask, because this silence is getting unbearable and it's a legitimate question. There are at least a dozen other places that would have been more convenient than this, and of all of them he chose here.

“Calm your tits Vantas, no one's going to kill you,” he says, almost offhandedly, and his voice sounds oddly distant. “Even if your organs can sell for a good price on the black market.”

You don't really know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut, fixing him with a glare that you hope conveys a meaning of “okay I followed you all the way over here shitstain now are you going to tell me why you decided to drag me to the park to talk to me, get the fuck on with it already you miserable waste of space”. Or something along those lines. It's open for interpretation.

“What did you do to me?”

Cold grips your insides, twisting your stomach into a knot and leaving you feeling like you could shatter like a nitrogen-ed rose dropped on a science professor's desk. 

“Why would you even ask a question like that?” You fight to keep what you're feeling out of your voice, but it's kind of hard when you don't know what the fuck you're feeling in the first place. Your emotions are all twisted in on themselves, it's like you're feeling everything at once and it's impossible to tell what even comes out in your voice. Whatever it is, you know you can't count on Dave's reaction to tell you.

What does he mean what did you to him? Oh fuck, is he somehow changed because you rooted around in his insides? Does he remember it somehow, oh fuck, oh fuck what are you supposed to do?

You internally flinch at the sound of wings flapping in the air, loud and unexpected. Dave doesn't move when the large bird comes to land on his shoulder, only cocking his head slightly before running a hand through his hair. Except his hand stops short before it can get to his hair. You don't expect him to pick up the shades off of his nose, the shades you haven't seen him without, the same shades he almost punched another dude for trying to take them off. His eyes are still closed, and you're struck with the sudden realization that this is the first time you've really seen his face.

“Because the crows told me,” he says, and then opens his eyes.

>Flip your shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that i leave you with a slightly less dramatic but still hopefully just as suspenseful cliffhanger. yet again.


	5. A FUcking Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now, what type of abnormality haunts Dave's dreams?

You've always been able to talk to the crows. That's one thing you're sure of. You just didn't realize how weird it was for someone to be able to talk to birds until Bro had to move to Texas for some job, making you leave the only friend you'd ever made behind. You still talked to him online pretty much every fucking day, but it just wasn't the same. At least it made it easier to hide it from him that not everyone thinks you're as cool as you make yourself out to be. In Texas you were just the weird kid with dark glasses who didn't talk and hangs out with birds.

Rose is the only one who officially knows. You don't know how she ended up dragging it out of you, but in the end you're just surprised you managed to keep it from her as long as you did. You think it's kind of strange how she just accepts it. Like, she doesn't make any passive-aggressive hints that maybe you need to go see a shrink, or maybe what they're saying to you revolves around some subconscious Freudian desire. Then again, that might have something to do with her interest and sort of questionable involvement in some pretty legit-looking dark majyyks shit. 

Whether Bro knows is kind of iffy. You've never told him about it outright, but you've made enough hints and he's walked in on enough rooftop conversations over the years for it to be pretty obvious. He's never said anything, so you take it as some kind of vague, distant sort of acceptance and a warning to keep that shit under wraps or at least be fucking careful about it. 

And you did. It's not like you had some death wish. Texas is different from Washington, you don't need rocket science to figure that one out, and no matter where you go kids are cruel. Ten years you stuck through it, just to point a big “fuck you” their way because like hell are you going to be intimidated by them. You could take every single one of them no problem; you grew up with Bro, for christ sake. It's just easier to ignore them than it is to do anything else.

Even if they were a part of the “problem”, the crows helped. They were interesting to talk to; they gossiped about anything and everything. Who was new, who died, the raven spotted near the edge of their territory, how fucking stupid most humans are.

They call you “Knight” for some reason, a title that makes zero sense to you, but whenever you try to ask anything beyond that they just laugh, a mix of grating rasps and fluffed wing feathers. 

They laugh at you a lot.

You didn't complain much beyond what was obligated to be annoying when Bro told you to pack up your shit. Your classmates can go fuck themselves, the only friends you have are John and Jade and Rose, and you sort of miss really chilly falls where your breath hangs in the air like a promise. 

It's harder to say goodbye to the crows than you thought it would be. They pick at the sleeves of your shirt with their beaks, pulling out tufts of hair from your head softly in a way that means “you are worthy to be a part of my young's nest”. They leave before you want them to, flying off in a flurry of feathers, which is their way of saying “shut the fuck up and go already you big wuss”. You take it to heart.

The first thing you do when you get to the new apartment back in Washington after you dump your boxes in your room is head up to the roof. There's no one there, which is a relief, and you do a long, loud whistle, and it's not long after that that they come.

They greet you as Knight, which doesn't surprise you as much as it should, and you talk with them for a good hour about the town. The areas to avoid, the people who mean bad news, how this place has changed since the ten years you've been gone. You're glad when you get back to your room that the screen on the window pops off easily, and a few crows sit in the sill while you unpack your things.

When you finally get around to getting to the school Bro signed you up for, you're surprised to find that your reputation preceded you. You didn't even know you had a reputation available to precede, but whatever. It's at lunch, navigating your way out of the crowded cafeteria, that you hear the call of a familiar voice.

John greets you in the way you expected him to; clumsily, and with an awkward hug. You're finishing up the the teasing not-insult that you have so not been perfecting for a week when a voice, loud and grumpy and sounding like the color gray of all things, interrupts you.

You're met with a sight you never thought you'd see outside of your own mirror.

His eyes are red. Exactly like yours. No, not exactly. To use the cliché stone metaphor, if your eyes are bright rubies then his eyes are garnet; yours are the fire, bright and piercing and unavoidable, and his are the brimstone, dark and deep and contemplating. You hear some other people talking, but you're too busy silently flipping the fuck out to really notice. You can't stop looking at him.

“You got your fill yet, asshole?” His face is angry, which you think might be his default expression, but there's a layer of tiredness under his voice that you recognize from what you've felt before; _oh look kids, there's the weird guy who talks to the crows and has no friends, let's all stare at him and laugh_. You shrug, because you don't know what else to do and it's scary how much he already reminds you of yourself.

“You don't see red eyes every day.” It comes out sounding a lot more bitter than you meant it to, because talk about ironic, but that said it's not too far a cry from your usual monotone.

“Unless you're me.” Buddy, you got no idea.

///

All you felt was the hair raising on the back of your neck and Karkat had a vise-like hold on your wrist, dragging you away from the strange oily graffiti and up the stairs. He'd thrown you into a room and slammed the door behind him in a way that screamed of finality, and relief oozed out of him like a ketchup packet being stepped on. He said it was nothing, and like hell are you buying that bull but whatever, and you walk over to the window to get a look at the view.

You're about to make some smart-ass comment to John when suddenly you can't breathe because fuck are these crows? The room is filled with crows, but they're not any of the ones you've talked to and they feel _empty_. They push you back. You fall.

///

( **tHe** ) _Ev_ ( **shA** ) _ery_ ( **d** ) _th_ ( **owS a** ) _in_ ( **re evER** ) _g_ ( **y w** ) _is s_ ( **hEre** ) _ilent._

///

They want to keep you at the hospital overnight, but when Bro asks you if you want to stay and you say no, it's not a question on where you're going to be sleeping tonight. There's no way you're staying at a hospital when the only thing wrong with you is a skinned elbow, a sore head and a bruised back.

The second you get back to the apartment you throw open the window to your room, and when you whistle, the only crow that comes is an old girl that instantly became your favorite the second you met her. She's fierce and battle-scarred, sharp and witty and a lot like Rose. That should probably tell you something, but it doesn't and fuck you. 

_“You found your fellow Knight I see. It was your luck that he considers you a friend,”_ she says with clicks of her claws and blinks of her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. What the fuck is she talking about?

Flighty Broad cocks her head to the side. You'd tried to name her before, but you still have the scar from the last time, so you keep all names to yourself. _“You do not know? The Knight was the one who revived you. I watched as he breathed life back into your blood.”_ Whaat.

“I thought I was the Knight,” you say, because really that's the simplest thing you think you can ask right now. Flighty Broad flaps her wings in a laugh.

_“And I thought you might surprise me by not being foolish!”_

“Hey, I thought we were friends.” 

_“Talk to the one with eyes like yours,”_ she says, blinking her own lazily as if to drive home a point. _“You'll find you might have more in common than your Class.”_ She takes off, cawing goodbye, and your eyes are drawn to a feather left on your desk. A good luck charm, you know it is. You sigh. She really wants you to go through with this.

You can't go back to school until a week later. Rose flies all the way down from New York even though you tell her you're fine, which helps alleviate your boredom to some extent, and John visits you every day after school, but your thoughts are filled with what FB told you. “Talk to the one with eyes like yours”. Who else do you know with red eyes? If you guessed Karkat, ding ding ding, congratulations, you're the million dollar winner, pick up your prize after the show. “More in common than your class”? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? He's the other Knight she was talking about? So then, he's the one who saved you. You try to ask her why the crows at the building attacked you, but when you do she falls silent, and her grim demeanor demands you to change the subject. What is even going on any more.

For once in your life, you can't wait to go back to school.

Rose knows something's up, but she decides to be generous and not say anything about it.

The next Monday and you're there again, finally. You don't know what to do with the concern people are showing you, asking you how you feel and how it's amazing that you're okay, so you just nod and say cheesy one-liners and they laugh and walk away. And most of the time it's genuine laughter too, which is kind of weirder.

You stop Karkat when the bell rings for the end of lunch.

“Hey, Karkat.” He turns, eyebrow raised. “Who do you have last?” 

“Mrs. Kearns. Why?” You nod – you know exactly which classroom that is.

“Cool,” You say. “I need to talk to you after school. You free?” The other eyebrow joins up in the ranks.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Cool, see you then.”

“Dave, what -” You turn away before he can finish his question, not sure how you would answer without seeming even more suspicious.

The rest of the day passes agonizingly slowly, just like the whole week had.

He follows you when you get to his class without question. You notice Flighty Broad following from a ways behind, a silent show of support, which you appreciate. When you finally get to the park, somewhere out of the way, you realize you have absolutely no idea what to say. Shit.

“Calm your tits Vantas, no one's going to kill you, even if your organs can sell for a good price on the black market.” You know you're stalling, because seriously how the shit are you supposed to start a conversation like this? 

Well. Might as well start of simple.

“What did you do to me?”

It's like hitting an OFF switch. Karkat's face closes off completely, a pretty good poker face, but not good enough. You can see the fear in his eyes.

“Why would you even ask a question like that?” His voice is oddly flat, and it's such a contrast to his usual angry banter that for a second you don't know what to say. There's a familiar sound of wind under feathers and Flighty Broad is settled on your shoulder. You tilt your head at her, and she mirrors you, a clear: What are you waiting for dumbass? You think you know what you need to do.

You reach up for your shades, closing your eyes before taking them off entirely.

“Because the crows told me.” You open your eyes.

 

 

When your eyes finally adjust to the shaded light, the first thing you see is Karkat's face. You've gotten pretty good at reading people over the years, but it doesn't surprise you when his expression is completely unreadable, completely blank with a tight impassiveness that means the exact opposite of apathy. When the seconds begin to grow longer with tension, you decide to take the initiative.

“I may just be reading between the lines here, but I'm going to take that shocked silence as an “oh my gosh Dave, your eyes are just like mine!” to which I would say yes, yes they are.” You pause. “Was that a “What were you saying about crows?” I heard there? Well, Karkat, for some reason that I'm not completely sure of I can talk to crows. Like this one here, for example.” You'd asked them why you could a long time ago, and they'd said something about how since you've touched death more times than anyone else, and they were among death's messengers, you were able to understand their language.. You're pretty sure though that you haven't “touched death” at all until the incident last week, so you're not really sure about that one.

“And she told me something pretty interesting,” you say. “She said she watched as you breathed life back into my blood. Whatever that means. And apparently you're a Knight, which is kind of funny since I am, too. It's like we're in sync, so in tune with each other. It was a match made in the stars.” You watch his face carefully, but nothing changes except maybe his breathing has become a little too controlled.

_“I think you broke him,”_ FB says with a ruffle of her feathers.

“Nah he cool,” you say. And you reach out for his shoulder.

The moment you make contact your muscles lock up, and you can't move. At all. Wow, this would be a super bad time to get an itch ope there it is, right between your shoulder blades. It's not that you can't breathe as much as it's really super difficult, and you have to fight against your diaphragm in a way that actually kind of hurts. It suddenly occurs to you that maybe you should be wondering what the hell is going on.

You realize that Karkat is now backed up about five feet away, and pacing furiously, hands clawed up in his hair.

“No this can't be happening he doesn't know what is this about crows there's no way he fucking knows god fucking-”

“Kaw!” Flighty Broad caws from her position on your shoulder, one of the loud ones that doesn't mean anything, and Karkat's attention is jerked back towards you. When he sees you frozen in place, he pales.

“Fuck.” Whatever strings had been holding you up are suddenly cut, and then your body decides that that's a good time to remember the laws of physics and you fall hard against the tree you were leaning on before with an “oof”. He doesn't move to help you, instead watching you with a look on his face that is a mix of panic and tension in perfect measure. Poor guy. You can only imagine what must be going on in his head right now.

“What,” you pant, “The fuck was that?”

“What do you want?” No answering your question then, alright. You straighten yourself out, Flighty Broad adjusting herself on your shoulder. 

“Just to talk,” you say, and then you nod your head to the side where FB is sitting. “She's the one who suggested it. It's usually not a good idea to just ignore her.”

_“That hasn't stopped you from disregarding our claims before,” _FB says through a tightening of claws and the ruffling of feathers.__

“That's because they were stupid.” She nips at your ear with a sharp beak, but it's more playful than violent, which you're incredibly thankful for. You may not be the most vain person in the world, but you like being symmetrical. “Hey hey, watch the face.”

“And what, exactly,” Karkat interrupts, “Did she say about me?” When you look away from Flighty Broad, you realize just how tense Karkat is. He's gripping the straps to his backpack tightly, his whole body looking like it's fighting to prepare to be on the offense and defense at the same time. You finally realize just how delicate this situation is. He's a cornered animal, and when animals are cornered they lash out. You get the feeling you don't want to be on the receiving end of whatever it is he can do.

You're interrupted from your thoughts by a raspy trill.

“You sure?” 

FB does the crow equivalent of a shrug, her head turned to keep one eye on Karkat. You cock your head to the side, wondering what she's up to. Part of you wants to refuse, but 1) she'd probably peck your eyes out and 2) she can take pretty damn good care of herself.

“Hey Vantas, you cool with being a bird perch?” He doesn't say anything, but after a moment his body posture changes to something slightly more open. FB seems to take this as permission, and she launches off your shoulder and towards him. He holds out an arm instinctively and you're about to warn him – that's for pet birds, crows are proud, wild creatures and they don't like being treated as anything but – when FB lands on his outstretched arm. And bows.

You learned that crow bows are pretty fucking special; reserved only for those they consider to be either their equals or extremely strong. You suddenly understand nothing.

“'Knight of Blood,'” You translate, and you don't miss how Karkat tenses at the words. You're confusion level goes up a notch – you were aware that there's a second part to titles, but you've never gotten yours. “'I apologize for Dave's lack of tact, but you have no need to fear. We have no wish for your harm.'” Karkat is obviously confused, but he takes it in stride. Good for him.

“Yeah, he is pretty stupid,” Karkat says, ignoring your exclamation of “aw, c'mon”. He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head. “How much do you know?”

“'There is much that I do not know,'” FB says, and she waits patiently for you to finish translating to continue. “'But your position and abilities are not among those things. As are Dave's,'” she adds, and there goes another notch on your confusion ladder, because apart from a few small things you had no idea you had any abilities at all. You see Karkat's gaze flicker to you before going back to FB.

“Do you have a name?” Karkat asks. Oh crap. FB gives the crow equivalent of a smile, and you're about to intercept when she makes a series of grating clicks in the back of her throat.

What.

It wasn't words as much as a series of feelings – wind through spread feathers, victory as claws close around the enemies' throats, tenderness of watching young hatch from their eggs and the sadness of knowing that they will die if not taught the harshness of life. It is, without a doubt, her name; and something that feels extremely personal.

“So you tell him, but not me?” The look she gives you is hard, and you feel immediately like you've just been spanked after lying to your mom that no, it wasn't you who stole from the cookie jar, scout's honor, as you brush the crumbs from your shirt.

_“You and he may not remember the deeds of the past, but respect is still owed where it's due – perhaps with him more than you. Now is not the time for petty jealousies.”_ You open your mouth to retort when you realize she's right. You are jealous; she's revealed more things to him than she has to you, and it's a strange feeling.

“What did she say?” Karkat says, sounding unsure of himself.

“Her name,” you say, “It's not something that you get to hear very often if you ever hear it at all. It doesn't exactly translate.” She keeps staring at you, unblinking. _And the other part._ “She says it's owed to you as a respect.”

“For... saving you?” He says incredulously. So he was the one who saved you, how about that. You listen for her response.

“'Yes, but not ultimately'.” You frown in confusion, but she doesn't offer more than that.

She stares at him, blinking slowly, and he stares back. You don't interrupt – she knows what she's doing.

“'You are having trouble,'” you say, and her softness comes out in your voice unintentionally. A flicker of something crosses Karkat's face, but it's gone before you can identify it. He sighs, and it's the sigh of someone who is done with all this shit.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice cracking, and he clears his throat. “Yeah. When Dave – when you fell, you were hurt pretty bad.” He doesn't look at you, instead addressing the tree next to you. “There was a lot of... blood coming from a cut on your head. And your heart stopped.” You blink. Mark one down on the list for things you were not expecting to hear today. “In case it wasn't fucking obvious, blood is sort of my thing, which includes everything it's in. So I got your heart started back up and I think saved you a concussion.” He pauses, and it's like the next words are dragging themselves out unwillingly. You don't doubt it. “I've spent my whole life just trying to ignore it. But when I used it, it's like I started something I couldn't stop. It's been harder to control lately, which is my segway into saying that what I did to you a couple minutes ago was the complete fucking opposite of intentional.”

“Blood bending powers sound pretty awesome, yo,” you say, watching for his reaction.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, and the sarcasm is thick in his voice. “Not being able to sleep because I always have someone else's heartbeat in my ears is awesome. And don't forget about the part where I almost killed five different people this past week without realizing it because of my super stable emotional state.”

“Ask me what time it is.”

“What?”

“Go on,” you say. “Just do it.”

“What time is it?” he says, sound impatient.

4:30:27

“Four-thirty, twenty-seven.” Karkat gives you a flat look. “Being constantly aware of the passage of time isn't exactly a cake-walk, either. I'm like a living clock over here.” But then again, maybe the beating of a heart and an internal timer aren't very different. It looks like Karkat is thinking the same thing.

_“There is something which we must discuss,”_ FB says. _“But here is not the place.”_

“How about that. Karkat, you got any place you need to be?” Karkat shrugs. You realize then that your shades are still in your hand, and you smoothly return them to their rightful place on your face, where they belong. “How would you like to meet the family?”

///

The walk to the apartment you share with Bro, and Rose until she decides to leave, is mostly silent, with FB having flown ahead to wait for you there. You decide that you should probably try to warn him of your family's... _idiosyncrasies_ , before it's too late.

“Hey,” you say, and Karkat looks up from where he'd been staring at the sidewalk as you walked. “So, my family is pretty weird, just telling you now. Bro is one strange mother fucker, I think he runs some puppet porn site, so if you know what's good for you you'll avoid all those plush rumps scattered across the floor.” You give him a moment to let that sink in. “There's Rose, but compared to some people I know she's pretty normal. Just don't let her scan you with her psycho-analyzing juju.”

“Do they know about...” Karkat doesn't finish, but you can take a guess at what he means.

“I think Bro does,” you say, because what are you going to do, lie to him? “But I don't know for sure. He's cool with it. Rose definitely does, and so far she hasn't given a shit.” You're struck with a thought. “We don't have to say anything about you if you don't want to. As long as we get past Rose quick enough, it should be fine...” But only if she gets the wrong idea first. You're going to get so many side-remarks about bringing boys home. What if Bro tries to give you The Talk again? You think he still has those particular smuppets stashed away somewhere...

Suddenly you are dreading this a lot more than you were twenty seconds ago.

You take the lead inside the apartment building, climbing up the stairs because the elevator is a piece of shit and you feel like it'll fall apart the second you step inside. You stop at the door, and when Karkat nods you open it and step inside.

Everything is in its normal state of disarray – empty take-out boxes piled on the table in front of the TV, smuppets strewn across the floor with a sword peeking out of various spaces here and there. The fact that Bro isn't immediately in sight sets you on edge. Rose must be in her room. You nod your head toward the door of your room, and you both walk forward as silently as you can.

You manage to get to your room without incident, which is a fucking miracle and nothing can convince you otherwise. FB is already there, inside your window, and you motion for Karkat to do the same when you sit down on your bed.

“So, what was so important that you couldn't just tell us at the park?” you ask. She doesn't say anything for a moment.

_“You are aware of the shadows that walk this earth, are you not?”_ The question is obviously meant for Karkat, and when you're done translating he blinks in surprise.

“Yeah. I see them all the time.”

“Shadows?”You ask, raising an eyebrow. Karkat sighs.

“Fucking _shadows_. I can see them but for some reason no one else can. Most of them are harmless, but sometimes you get a really nasty one.” You stop to think for a moment. Not exactly the most unbelievable thing in the world, given your situation.

“Is that what you were running from in that building?” He nods.

“It wasn't too strong, but it could've dealt some damage. Definitely enough to make someone disappear or drive them insane.” You whistle. Karkat turns to FB. “Do you know what they are?”

“'In the past,'” you translate, “'Some of them were considered Gods. These are the ones who wish for destruction. The others are simply spectres from another time and another place.' Freaky,” You add. Karkat ignores you.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks warily.

“'These old Gods may not be Gods any longer, but they are still far too powerful to be of no significance. If something is not done, then there is a high probability that all the sacrifices made for this universe will be in vain. And you,' Holy shit, really? 'And you are the only ones who can stop them.'”

“Stop them.” Karkat says, his voice flat. “In case you didn't notice, those things don't exactly have physical bodies. I kind of need blood for me to do anything.”

“'And that is where your fellow Knight will come in.' Who, me? What will I do, shout the time at it until it surrenders?”

_“You far underestimate yourself,”_ She says. _“You have much potential and power that you are not aware of. If we can unlock your power, you will be able to defeat these shadows.”_

“Please, enlighten me,” you say.

_“You are the Knight of Time,”_ She says as if it's so obvious and you're stupid for not realizing it. Which, you have to admit, you kind of are. “If you can rewind the shadow's time to back when they were made of flesh, then they can be destroyed.” You repeat this to Karkat, who nods slowly.

“Makes sense,” he says.

_“But.”_ You groan. 

“But? There's always a 'but', what is it this time?”

_“The only reason they have yet to destroy this universe is because they do not have the power they once held. Once they regain a corporeal form, it will return to them in full. Which is why this is extremely risky. Make even one mistake, and you will be wiped from existence.”_

“Lovely,” you mutter as you finish repeating it.

“If you're right,” Karkat says. “What would happen if we don't do anything?”

_“There is already one shadow that is gaining power as we speak. It is the most dangerous, and the one we will have to destroy first. Once you see why, I'm sure no more motivation will be required.”_ She ruffles her feathers, hopping toward the open window. _“Regardless, I will give you time to think this over.”_ And she's gone.

You look at Karkat to find him staring at the wall, deep in thought. “What are you going to do?” he asks.

“Like there was any doubt,” You say, smirking, and when he looks at you he mirrors it almost perfectly. You hold out a fist, and he bumps it. “Fuck yes.” You take a moment to appreciate this new level of closeness you've achieved in just under an hour – record time – when you're thoughts are interrupted.

“What now?”

“Well,” you say, “It might be a good idea to get out of here if you still don't want to run into anybody.” Karkat gets up and lets you move ahead, and when you peek your head back out it all looks exactly the same as before. Not even a little bit worrying, not at all, nope. You creep forward, Karkat following behind.

A slight _woosh_ of air is the only warning you get before a hand materializes on your and Karkat's shoulder. You sort of expected that, so it doesn't scare you like it definitely does Karkat, and you regret not telling him about Bro's flashstep immediately.

The next few seconds happen in a blur: a yelp that sounds like it came from someone who's name starts with a K, the sudden absence of a hand on your shoulder, and the sound of a loud crash. Suddenly Karkat is kneeling on the floor, clutching at his head and panting, and you turn at the sound of wheezing to see Bro trying to disentangle himself from the DVD cabinet.

Oh right.

Blood bending.

“Well, so much for not saying anything,” you say out loud. You notice that Karkat still hasn't moved from his position on the floor, and after a moment of trying to figure out what to do you kneel next to him. He's clutching at his head still, a strained sound of pain coming out of him with each outward breath. 

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, even though he pretty obviously isn't. “Deep breaths. I think you over-exerted yourself a bit there.” He follows your advice, deepening his breathing, but after a few moments he shakes his head slowly.

“No,” he says. “It was holding myself back.” Oh. Shit. So he wasn't kidding about his powers being out of control. You realize how twitchy he's been since you started climbing up the stairs. Maybe even since you first got in the building.

He seems to be doing better, so you stand up and offer him a hand. He takes it, and you pull him to his feet. You're about to check on Bro when you hear the sound of Rose's door opening behind you, and Karkat stiffens.

Before you realize what's happened, he's yanked you around so that he's in front of you, and lowers his arms in front of him into a defensive position, backing up in a way that forces you to back up with him. You're about to tell him to chill the fuck out because it's just Rose, when he fucking _growls._

Karkat has officially flipped off the handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just love making my boys flip off the handle


	6. A FUcking Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which this chapter is awesome, and i use far too many italics
> 
> EDIT: so someone asked a question which made me realize i was going to explain some things but i'd forgotten so here we go. None of this is spoiler-y, it's just not something that will ever really come up in the fic.
> 
> this can count as a post-game au, where all of the trolls have been human-ized. No one remembers the game, at least, no one HUMAN. (i'm lookin at you, u fookin crows). Everyone still has their class/aspect, they just manifest in different ways, ie: karkat's weird blood shit (Knight of blood), dave's internal timer(knight of time), etcetera etcetera. So you can expect things to work a biiiiiiiit different than they did last time. I'm workin on some serious reacharound shit here, yo

So, there may or may not be another freak on this Earth besides you.

You may or may not have had a conversation with a fucking crow.

You may or may not have let someone you barely know take you to his house, sort of unofficially agreed to go through with a plan that _might_ somehow destroy the universe, and you may or may not be kneeling on the floor from crippling pain.

Who are you kidding, of course you did all those things.

The second you stepped inside the apartment complex, you could feel it. Feel...something. It grew stronger as you followed Dave up the flights of stairs, and grew exponentially the second you crossed through the open door.

You dismissed it as nervousness. Really, what else could it be? You're almost out anyway, look, there's the door-

When you felt a sudden hold on your shoulder, without even a heartbeat beforehand to warn you, it became too much too quickly. Pure reflex had you throwing whatever it was away from you by it's insides, and you just barely stopped yourself from crushing it's heart. The effort of holding that power back sent a jack-knife straight through your skull, and you curse silently. 

It's still getting stronger. It's getting harder to control.

You let Dave help you up with no complaint – you aren't willing to test out just how much you need it at the moment. You're mentally preparing yourself for the doubtless awkward questions about to unfold when the door behind Dave opens.

The feeling that's been haunting you since you've come inside increases to break the realms of possibility, a wave of something indescribable in it's intensity hitting you square in the face.

You jerk Dave back by the hand that you're still holding on to, forcing him behind you. Instinct that you didn't know you even had rips a growl out of your throat, and you back up because that's what your mind is telling you you need to do in this situation.

A girl is in the doorway, but you can barely see her for the shadows that are wrapped around her like a shawl.

Tentacle-like tendrils of smoke curl up almost soothingly against her cheeks, trailing down her arms and wrapped around her neck, her waist, her legs. She's so completely covered that it's almost like she's not there at all. And now that you can see it, now that it's right in front of you, you can _feel_ it, too.

_Rot, decay, the end of every beginning, knowledge is power I can teach you to see, let me open your eyes and you'll know everything and you will never be alone again, we can be together forever I'll be with you Rosey, sweet, dear Rosey, you are thirsty let me quench your thirst with stories of truths of things that no one else will ever trust you to learn Rosey, Rosey, Rosey I will show you the rotten underbelly of the world and we will laugh as one-_

Infinite space crammed impossibly into the form of shadows, pressing in on your mind at all corners. How is this girl even _standing_?

You find that you've backed up as far as you can with Dave still behind you, and you think you can see a look of amusement written on the parts of the girl's face that you can see.

“Dave,” she says, calm as you please. “Who is your friend?” And you are taken aback by how human she sounds. 

That doesn't stop another growl from tearing from your throat like a chainsaw when she takes a step forward.

“Rose, Karkat. Karkat, Rose. Karkat, what the fuck are you doing, if you hurt my sister I swear-”

 _“Come one step closer and I will boil that fucking shadow off of you with your own fucking blood.”_ That seems to stop her in her tracks, although what part of the sentence it was that gave her pause is under debate.

“Oh,” she says, sounding genuinely surprised. “Am I to believe that you can see my slumbering companion?” You're confused for a moment because _what the fuck is she talking about_ when a strange sound comes from the shadow, and a moment later you realize what it is.

A snore.

It's asleep.

You clench your fists, trying to keep your volatile powers from touching a single cell on her body, because you know that if she gets hurt, her “companion” will wake up.

You very much do not want it to wake up.

 _“How the fuck are you still alive?”_ You try to keep your voice quiet, but it still comes off with a growl under every word, and it sounds threatening even to your own ears.

_Good._

“When you grow up with an Eldritch Horror whispering into your ear, you become quite used to it,” she says, her voice placating. You see a flash of lavender under softly writhing shadows. “My whole life I have not come across a single person who has been able to hear it as I can, let alone see it.”

“Are you saying that you can't see it?” You ask, incredulous. The idea that the girl herself isn't a threat is slowly penetrating through your instinct-driven haze, loosening taught muscles. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “To me it is just a whisper, a voice speaking from the abyss.”

“Forget about the abyss,” you rasp. “It's right fucking here.” Now that the adrenaline has finally drained from your limbs, your legs decide that now is a good time to take a break. You crumple to the floor.

You cringe in on yourself when it laughs in it's sleep, the sound of it worming against the walls of your mind. Even unconscious, it's still trying to break through the privacy of your head, to do who knows what to it. And you're not even touching it. Your respect for this Rose grows by the second. She has to be unbelievably strong to be able to live through this every second of the day without going insane.

“Interesting friend you got there, little man.” That voice must be Bro. The one you threw across the room. You decide to stay on the floor, resting your head on your knees. Dave talks above you, probably trying to explain everything, but you're too tired to try to help him out at all. You almost killed somebody what, three times today? First Dave at the park, then Bro when he snuck up on you, and then Rose, which would have woke up the abomination twined around her at which point it would have killed all of you. How much worse do you want to bet this gets, you ask yourself. How much harder is it going to be to catch yourself before you stop somebody's heart, or solidify their blood in their veins or make them burst an artery, or even watch as blood pours from their eyes, their ears, their nose their mouth, watch them drown in their own liquid and paint the world a bright, wonderful red, feel the slickness under your fingers a _nd let go, give in to the feeling of crushing someone's life out of their eyes, breathe in their final breath and make them pay for existing, for thinking they're better than you without knowing just how powerful you really are, they are insects and you will crush them, tear their throats out with your teeth and drInk them iN-_

 _“Shut up!”_ You're hands are over your ears, trying to block out a voice that only exists in your mind, and you're met with a ringing, blissful silence. 

Silence. People were talking.

You look up, and you see Dave and Bro looking back at you with matching, practiced impassiveness. Rose, however, looks worried. 

“You're not used to this, are you?” She says softly. You shake your head in the negative, letting your hands slide back to the floor. How do you get used to something compelling your subconscious to murder everything around you?

“What are you talking about?” Dave asks.

“Shadows,” you murmur, and his attention goes back to you. “The shadows are everywhere.” You pause for a moment, and then it's like waking up from a dream, and things come back into a clearer focus. “We were literally _just_ talking about this, Strider. You remember, the shadows and the death and the evil. Like the one your sister seems to be tangle-buddies with.” Dave looks between you and Rose.

“You're telling me Rose has an evil shadow friend?” Dave says. You're not going to even try to dignify that with a response. You realize something suddenly.

“How are either of you still sane when you've been subjected to _that_ for however long she's been here?”

“It seems,” Rose says, talking before either Bro or Dave can. “That both Bro and Dave are immune. I suspect this has to do with the dark glasses they wear nearly incessantly, although I have the feeling that, were they to take them off, they might even be just as sensitive to it as you are. They _have_ been listening to it's voice long enough, even if they don't realize it, and it's most likely had some effect.”

“So, if I were to take my shades off right now, I would be able to see what you're freaking out about?” Dave asks. Rose purses her lips.

“There's a chance. But I highly suggest that you do not, under any circumstances, take off your shades while in my presence. Silence is a luxury; I do not wish for this to become the same for you.” There's a few moments of silence, except not really; it mumbles, in a voice that is made of temptation, and it makes you want to scream.

“Hey.” You look up from where you were burning a hole in the floor with your eyes with a start, and you look up to see Bro. You notice now that his shades are a lot like Dave's, except his are pointed and they look kind of ridiculous. “Can you stand?” You get up on your legs, slightly shaky, but you're glad that he doesn't try to help you up. You think his lips quirk up at the edges, but you have no idea what for so you ignore it, trying to look at him right where his eyes should be.

He makes a show of looking you up and down, before settling back on your face. His lips widen into a smug, close-lipped smile. “About God damn time Dave got himself a boyfriend.”

Dave splutters from where he stands, and Rose fails to cover something that sounds dangerously close to a giggle with her hand. You make sure that nothing changes except the depth of your frown.

“He wishes. Pasty douchebags aren't my type.” Bro throws back his head and laughs, and Dave huffs with his arms crossed over his chest. They don't need to know that that was a lie; you've seen him during gym, and needless to say it was hard not to stare. It still is, sometimes, especially when he wears those fucking skinny jeans.

Not thinking about that right now, though.

“I like you,” Bro states. “What's your name, kid?”

“Karkat.”

“Bro. And if you even try to call me Mr Strider you can say goodbye to the hope of ever having kids. That shit makes me sound old.”

“You are old,” Dave says. Bro flips him off.

“I'll keep that in mind,” you say. 

“So,” Bro says, tilting his head to the side. “You care to explain how you threw me across the room without even touching me?” You're pretty sure you didn't just listen to Dave just explaining this, but you shrug. If he wants to hear it from you, then so be it.

“Long story short, I've got some weird blood shit going on. That's actually what saved Dave, so don't be surprised if I show up at your door one day asking for a favor because boy do you fucking owe me. Don't think that will save you though, your life is mine, you are nothing to me, I' _ll boil you from the inside out before you even know I'm there, I'll tear your heart from your chest and keep you alive just long enough for you to watch me slowly kill every one you've ever loved and I will **laugh** - _OW!” You rub at your face where Rose slapped it, the sting slowly fading, and you try to forget the feeling of permeating coolness the shadow left on your skin. “This shit is getting real old, real fast,” You mutter. “Thanks.”__

“It was my pleasure,” Rose says.

“ _Oooo_ kay,” Dave says, both of his eyebrows raised above his shades. “I would like to take this time to say _what the fuck,_ Karkat.”

“There is currently an ancient power trying to mindfuck me into _giving you worthless pieces of shit what you deserve-_ ” Rose smacks you upside the head, and the pain pierces through the sudden fog in your head. “-so excuse me if I slip up every once in a while. Any tips?” You ask, turning to Rose.

“Try not to have murderous thoughts?” 

“Ha,” you snort. “That ship sailed so fucking long ago that it's not worth even mentioning any more.” Rose shrugs.

“Then I don't know what to tell you. Sorry.”

“I'll get used to it.” Maybe. You turn back to Bro, who hasn't moved an inch. “I hope that answered your question. It's been getting harder to control, probably because I've been using it. I was this close to stopping your heart back there,” you say, holding your pointer finger and thumb a centimeter apart. “And I'm not trying to brag here when I say this, but please, don't fucking underestimate me.”

“Wasn't planning on it,” Bro says. “Do you think I could get a demonstration on what you can do?” You think about it. How much do you trust yourself right now? Can you really take control of him like that, have him completely at your mercy, they couldn't blame you if there was an accident, they know you're having trouble controlling it, you could do it easy-

“Maybe later,” you say, hoping your voice is among the 'and that's final' variety, looking pointedly at Rose.

“Ah,” she says. “If you'll excuse me, I have something to attend to in my room.” She nods to you before turning around, and when she shuts the door behind her it's like someone put a muffle on the shadow's voice, and holy fuck is the difference amazing. Exhaling in relief, you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers, trying to will away the headache that's beginning to form.

“Well, I guess we know what FB was talking about now,” Dave says.

“Who the fuck is FB?” 

“Flighty Broad,” He says, which answers absolutely nothing. “You know, that one crow we were talking to. I guess this is what she meant by “no motivation required”.”

“Oh,” you say. You didn't even think about that. “Shit.”

“Yup,” Dave says, popping the “p”. “I should've expected it to be honest, though. How could Rose not have a shadow demon 'whispering into her ear'?” You don't know what to say to that, so you spend a couple seconds spacing off in a way that isn't entirely voluntary. You're yanked back to attention by Dave's voice. “So, you saw it?”

“Yup.” You take great care to say it the exact same way he did it. You're not sure why.

“Well?” Dave says. “You gonna share with the class? What did it look like?”

“Think 'tentacles',” you say, waving your arms up slightly. “All over. Tentacles and smoke and...some other shit.”

“Figures,” Dave snorts. “Rose would get the fucking _tentacle monster_. Some irony god is really smiling down on us.” You don't respond, too busy staring longingly at the floor. 

“Kid.”

You think you might be swaying on your feet a little.

“Karkat.” You look up at Dave, then to Bro, who you realize was the one talking to you in the first place. 

“Think you can get home okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah...” You bend over to reach for your backpack, which got abandoned on the floor at some point of this situation, and heft it onto your shoulder. Was it always this heavy, because fuck damn.

“You sure, bro? You can just stay here for a while if you think you're going to ollie outie into unconsciousness.”

“The sooner I can get away from-” You point a finger at Rose's door. “ _-that_ , the better. I can barely keep myself in check while awake, do you really want to test just how quickly it can hijack my brain when I fall asleep?”

“Good point,” Dave says, nodding his head slightly. “You're already murderous enough as it is on a good day. You sure you're okay, though?” You giggle. 

Ha. Ha ha. You can't fucking help it, it's, it's just _so_ funny, how in the hell could he even be asking if you're _okay_? You've never been okay since the day you discovered what you could really do, the worst day of your entire fucking existence. Why would you be okay _now?? _You double over you're laughing so hard, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes until they've gone past threatening to spill over onto your face.__

It's just, so. He. He he ha _haha HahahAha ha no no NO NO NO-_

“ _HIT ME YOU MOTHER FUCKER._ ” When you yell it comes out garbled, mangled by the laughter that isn't yours, but you don't have to ask a second time. Bro bends down casually and brings his fist up into your gut, _hard_. You fall to the ground on your knees with an “oof”, gasping as the wind is knocked out of you. _Fuck_ , it hurts like a bitch, and you feel like you're going to throw up on top of passing out, but it's exactly what you need. You take his hand this time when he offers it.

“I never thought I'd say this,” you wheeze, “But thanks for punching me.”

“Any time,” Bro says. “Just don't do that again.”

“Not planning on it.”

“Dude, holy fuck,” Dave says, suddenly looking completely out of place somehow. “Don't ever laugh again, that had to be the most disturbing thing I've ever seen in my entire life, and Bro makes _puppet porn_ for a living.” You honestly don't have the energy to respond, so you settle for an eye roll as you wipe away the laugh-tears. Laugh tiers. Are there tiers of laughter? Maybe, like, different levels of just how funny something is until it crosses the line into 'fucking creepy' territory, which you probably just...crossed.

Fuck, you're tired. Who knew that having your whole life turned upside down and then being puppeted around by your mind by an ex-god in the space of one day could be so exhausting? It may also have something to do with the fact that you haven't slept in three days, but eh. Who knows; if you're lucky, maybe it's even a mix of both!

You mumble something that might have resembled a “fuck you goodbye” in another universe, and begin the long descent down the stairs. The walk back passes in a blur, and you're not exactly sure what you did to get to your room. All you know is that you want to go the fuck to sleep.

You're aware, on the faded edges of consciousness, of a shadow standing over you. It doesn't even occur to you to be scared; it feels safe, like it's keeping watch, and for a brief moment you think that the shadow is the wrong color.

You sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i figured i'd post this chapter now because i think i've kept you all waiting long enough. Thing is though it'll probably take me a while to upload the next one. idk i have what i want all mapped out but the next chapter is being all difficult to write and shit so it might be a week or two. or maybe even a couple days with how my brain works *flips table*
> 
> (whispers also the shadow in karkat's room is crabdad *cackles evilly whilst crying)


	7. A FUcking Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter yesssss

“You can't avoid it forever.”

You scowl at Dave where he sits on his bed, but you don't respond. It's been two weeks since the first time you came to his apartment, and you have a sinking suspicion that he's right. But does that mean you're just going to give in? Fuck no. Dave seems to take your silence as an acceptable answer and just shrugs, standing up to move over to his turntables. “Don't say I didn't warn you, bro,” he says, before pulling headphones over his ears and fiddling with the dials on the machine.

It stays like this for a while, you finishing the fucking ridiculous amounts of homework you have left and Dave doing whatever it is he does on those turntables. You've both set up a routine; go to school, try not to act like everything went to shit and became infinitely better at the same time (spoiler:it did), and once you're released from the prison of the school walls, go to Dave's place. You've been lucky in the sense that he hasn't yet insisted that you go to your house; the thought of throwing Dave into the already awkward clusterfuck of emotions called you and your father's relationship is just too horrifying to consider for more than a second at a time.

Once you get to his apartment, you both hide in Dave's room and fuck around with whatever you can until the crow – you can't bring yourself to call her Flighty Broad, something about her just demands too much respect for you to do that – appears in his window with whatever news she has to tell you. If she even comes in the first place. She hasn't appeared at all in the past three days, which has you kind of worried, but Dave says it's probably nothing and he calls her “Flighty” for a reason.

“Fuck it.” You look up from your math book to see Dave stretching, headphones abandoned. “Mac and cheese sound good to you?” You shrug, and follow him out the door when he turns to the disaster that the Striders like to call their kitchen. A pile of swords lay in one corner, and you pointedly ignore a lime-green puppet where it sits on the counter. Having nothing else to do, you watch as Dave pulls out a couple of instant Mac'n'Cheeses from the cabinet and dodges the various assortment of knives that fall out. You raise an eyebrow, but don't comment.

A few minutes later and the microwave is done with them. Dave hands one to you, grabs a couple of spoons from a drawer, and you follow him when he sits down on the couch. You're just about to take a bite when a voice sounds right next to your ear.

“What'chu got, there?”

_“God damn it!”_ You jump in surprise, and you drop everything on the carpet. You glare at Bro as you bend over to pick it up. Thankfully for you, nothing spilled. “It's like you're _trying_ to get yourself killed,” you mutter under your breath. Ever since the first time you came over Bro's been ambushing you like this. You know what he wants, but you've been trying to put it off and he knows it. You don't know how many times you've come close to giving him an aneurysm, because you've _lost fucking count._

“Don't know what you're talking about, little man,” he says, his voice the epitome of innocence. You bite back the insults waiting on your tongue. _Fuel to the fire, fuel to the fire..._ The chant of the day repeats itself in your head in a familiar monotone.

Dave snickers.

“That's it.” You throw your hands up, and stand up roughly on your feet. “I am fucking done. I am _done_.”You turn to where Bro is leaning against the wall, and point at him, then yourself, and finally the door to the apartment. “You, me, roof. We're settling this _now_.” You slam open the door and stomp down to the stairs at the end of the hallway, not bothering to close it behind you. By the time you get to the top and open the gray door to the roof, the slowly sinking sun painting smears of blood-orange in the polluted sky, Bro is already sitting cross-legged on top of the generator, even though you swear that you hadn't seen or felt him pass you. A steady-paced heartbeat signals Dave following after you, and you don't need to turn around to picture his hand-in-pockets slouch.

Bro slides off the generator, and a sword appears from seemingly out of fucking nowhere. Imaginary hackles raise on the back of your neck in suspicion, only for it to turn into confusion when he places the shitty conglomeration of metal and leather at his feet, and straightens back up to cross his arms over his chest.

“Make me pick it up.”

Oh...kay. That. Wasn't really what you were expecting him to say.

“Why?” you ask. “It's right in front of you, you do it.”

“Because,” he says, his tone patient and waiting, like he's explaining something to a kindergartner. “I want to see how well you can feel out my motor control. How much of my coordination are you actually in charge of? Does my sense of balance even matter or are you taking cues from me? These are the questions that need asking, young one.” He doesn't say anything after that, so you guess that's all he's going to say. Which are...actually pretty good questions, you grudgingly admit. Seventeen years of this and you still have no idea how this shit really works, and if you're actually going to help BQ out, chances are you should figure it out sooner rather than later. (You've taken to calling the old crow Beleaguered Querent because it satisfies your need for mysterious romantics, and it just seems to, you don't know, _fit_ her. Besides the fact that you did actually need to think of a name you can pronounce.)

Saying nothing, you close your eyes and let out a slow breath through your nose. Rose has been conveniently absent every time you've visited, but that doesn't mean your control wasn't spotty before. Just calm now, Vantas. Put that inherent rage somewhere that you can use it later when you need it. Leave that shit at the door.

Concentrating like this, it's much easier to feel the way that the blood flows through both Dave's and Bro's every vein, every capillary. You note with a bit of detachment that you can't feel your own, but before you can even consider freaking out you realize that your powers must consider your body something like a neutral zone. The brother's heartbeats are loud in your ears, now that you're allowing yourself to really notice them. You open your eyes, and raise your hands.

You don't think you actually need the hand movements, but it feels more...natural, somehow. Very tentatively, you coax the muscles in Bro's arms to relax at his sides. The rest just seems to follow naturally; the subtle shift in his legs, the way his shoulders need to adjust, and you're starting to wonder if that's you doing it on a subconscious level or if his body is just reacting to it, but you get the feeling that if you think about this shit too hard then you're gonna fuck up.

When you just let it happen, it's like slipping your own fingers into the gloves of his skin. As uh, extremely “nope” as that sentence would usually be, it's the best way you can describe it. Without much effort, you nudge Bro into a crouch and clench your own fingers as his go level with the sword's hilt, and within a few seconds he's upright again, sword clasped in his hands.

You let him go.

It's difficult. But fuck that shit, so you yank yourself out of the weird imagery your mind cropped up and realize a second too late that maybe you were a little more invested in the illusion of connected-ness than you'd originally thought. A good part of your mind is still halfway across the roof, amidst a network of cells and flesh and blood, and when you pull yourself back the disorientation that follows has you reeling with vertigo and gasping for breath. Did you, in your amazing levels of stupidity, really forget to breathe? The amount of you being able to believe that happening is truly _staggering._

“ _Fuck_ that was stupid,” you say when you finally have enough breath to talk. “Did I kill you?”

“Don't sound so hopeful,” Bro says, and you exhale in what was so not anything that even resembles relief.

“That was awesome,” Dave says. “Teach me your ways, young Avatar.”

“Shut the fuck up, Strider,” you snap, and he just shrugs with that stupid fucking smirk on his lips. You bet he thinks it's cool, too. “Don't you have some shit you need to be working on?”

“As soon as FB comes back, fuck yeah,” he says. “You may be born with it, but I definitely need some Maybeline up in this bitch. And when I say 'Maybeline', I mean 'wizened old crow guidance', because let me tell you, if I can do half of what's running through my mind right now then I'd rather not try experimenting and blowing up the world because I fucked up or whatever.”

“You know,” you say. “For once in your miserable life, you just might be right.”

“Don't you know it,” Strider drawls. You make sure to put an extra emphasis on the eye roll.

“You ladies done gossiping?” Bro says, and you wince internally. After a lifetime of trying to ignore what you can do, talking about it and using it so casually like this is weird as fuck. Especially in front of an adult because, as weird as Bro is, he still is one. You don't think you'll ever get used to it, really. “Now let's run through it again.”

“ _Again_?” You ask. Bro doesn't say anything, just looking at you. Right. You sigh, and begin again.

///

You're home. You're in your room, sitting on your bed and staring at the dark screen of your computer on the desk on the far wall.

Everything feels...disconnected. Every movement you make comes a second too late, out of sync with your thoughts, and every sound is like a voice through deep water; strange and distorted. Every so often your vision will swim, as if one of those circus mirrors was suddenly thrust in front of your face.

You know you should feel happy. You should feel _better_ now that you're not alone in this. Now that you know there's someone else who shares your abnormalities, even if not exactly, you should at least feel like things aren't as bad as they were before. But there's the problem.

You don't.

You feel exactly the fucking same as you did two weeks ago, two months ago, two years ago. You're still a freak. You're wrong, your entire existence is wrong and you should never have been born in the first place. If you hadn't, she would still be alive. Everyone would have better off without you and your fucked up blood. And the worst part is, you know that you're not supposed to be thinking these thoughts any more! Aren't you supposed to be having a more positive outlook by now? Aren't you supposed to be feeling happy? It figures, though. You can't even do _this_ right. You can control other people, but you can't even sort through the shit in your own head.

So here you are, stuck in some sort of physically dissociative/withdrawal episode or whatever the fuck, because Bro had to have you using your power on him for the rest of the fucking day. Fuck Bro. And fuck Dave too for, you don't know, being an asshole. Fuck John for being a normal human. Fuck Nepeta and Equius and Tavros and everyone else in this god damned fucking world for being able to drift through life without having to worry about shit like this.

No. No, you shouldn't be thinking that. Just. Fuck you. You're the one who's wrong here on every level.

Knock, knock knock.

“Karkat?”

You don't answer. There's a pause, and you wait for your dad to leave, like he does every night. The doorknob turns. Your dad opens the door.

“Karkat, is something wrong?” he asks, stopping in the doorway as if he's afraid to come in. “You were acting strange earlier.” The deep water effect has solidified into cotton in your eardrums, making it hard to understand what he's saying, and it takes you a couple of seconds to sort through sounds that seem so suddenly strange.

“'m fine.” Despite your best efforts, your voice comes out thick and slurred around your tongue. All hesitation seemingly lost, your father limps into the room, and if your face was capable of such a reaction you might wince. He leans over a bit to place the back of a cool hand against your forehead, and you lean slightly forward involuntarily. Fuck, how did it get so hot in here so fast.

“You were out late today,” he murmurs, his voice low and quiet. “What happened?”

“Nthng.” All vowels seem to have suddenly absconded from your vocabulary, so you don't really think he believes you. You make some sound of protest when he removes his hand from your forehead, but he moves it down to the side of your face, and you can feel the flow of his blood beneath his skin. Somehow your eyes closed sometime between him coming in the room and now. You don't really see a problem with any of this at the moment.

He sighs.

You're on your side now. You don't remember how you got from point A to point B, but something that sounds oddly like humming is currently distracting you from further contemplating the matter. Even with your eyes closed you feel dizzy. Like you're falling.

You fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but. karkat.
> 
> your macncheese. what about. you just left it. why?
> 
> ~angst~


	8. A FUcking Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NEWS AT THE END NOTES

You wake up.

You open your eyes.

...That is your ceiling.

You blink a couple times. You don't remember falling asleep. You don't remember much after getting back to your room, actually. You think something with your...dad? You don't fucking know. You turn over onto your side, and are greeted with a face-full of the alarm clock on your nightstand. Three p.m.

Three p.m. Today was a school day. Three p.m school day just woke up holy-

“Shit!”

You jump up, and you try to escape from under the covers of your blankets (how did you even get under the blankets??) and trip instead, effectively stumbling into your desk, jamming your elbow into the drawer handle and managing to knock over several books.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

You throw on a clean shirt and jerk open the door, and follow the sound of running water down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?!” Your dad shuts off the water to the sink, drying his hands on a wash-towel where he's obviously just finished washing some dishes.

“I did, several times,” he says. “And even if you had I wouldn't have let you go to school. You were practically unconscious on your feet last night. Do you even remember eating?”

“I what?”

“Exactly,” he says, and he motions to the table. “Sit down and I'll make you a sandwich. It's been what, nineteen hours since you've eaten anything?”

Nineteen hours? You blink in surprise. You haven't slept for that long in... fuck, you don't even remember the last time you've slept for more than five hours at a time. You sit down in a chair, too momentarily stumped to protest, and your dad places a plate with a sandwich in front of you. He sits down in the chair directly across from yours.

You ignore him, keeping your gaze fixed on the plate while you take a bite. You can feel him looking at you, but he doesn't say anything until you're almost halfway done.

“What happened.” He asks it like he's expecting an answer, but you refuse to look at him.

“Nothing.”

“Karkat.” Shit. He's always been able to tell when you're lying to him, and it looks like now won't be an exception. You need to think of something quick.

“I'm fine.”

“Bullshit,” he says, and the shock of the curse has you looking at him before you can stop yourself. His face is in a scowl, familiar in it's form but not on your father's features. You haven't heard him swear since... in years, and you know that that can't be a good thing for you. It means he's serious. “You've been coming home later and later every day since that incident with your friends, more worn out every time, and then you come home late last night not even able to form a coherent sentence. So don't tell me you're _fine_.”

He's right. He's so fucking right. You look back down, unable to keep looking at his face. You know he's been worried about you, you've known for a long time, and you haven't done a single thing to try to reassure him that you're okay. Well, you're not, but that's beside the point. You haven't even tried to find a way to talk to him before now, have you? You're pathetic.

“I'm not angry with you,” he says, his voice suddenly soft and insistent. “I want to help you, Karkat. But I can't help you if you won't even tell me what's going on.”

Maybe you should tell him. About you, all of you and what you can do. You at least owe him that, don't you? But what if he rejects you? Once you tell him, he'll see you for the monster you are. He'll know what you've done and he'll hate you, and you don't even blame him. How could he not? You would hate you if your positions were switched. Hell, you already do.

But maybe that would be better. Knowing, instead of speculating. That type of reaction would only be exactly what you deserve. You take a deep breath, and open your mouth to speak.

The doorbell rings.

You snap your mouth shut, and your father sighs. He stands up from the table and, limping, walks over to the front door. You're left staring through the space where your dad was just sitting, trying to figure out whether you're disappointed or extremely relieved. You hear the doorknob turn, and the squeaky sound of the door being opened.

“Can I help you?” Your dad asks, sounding oddly tired.

“Girl Scout cookies.” You bolt up, because you _know that fucking voice_ , and the chair makes a high-pitched screeching noise as it scratches against the tile before it topples over completely with a loud _bang_.

“ _Dave fucking Strider!_ ” You stomp over to the door, and you see Dave standing on the front steps with his backpack. He must’ve come straight from school. You ignore your dad completely. “How the _fuck_ did you find out where I live?!” 

“I sent my people to stalk your people in the dead of night.” Damn, you forgot about the fucking crows. You really should’ve expected this sooner. “And since John told me you have pretty much a perfect attendance record I figured I’d come in for a house call. Let Doctor Strider take _aallll_ your aches and pains away-” You step outside and slam the door after you before he can get any farther, and Dave smirks. Then it flattens a little into something more sober, and it catches you off guard. “But for realsies, what happened?”

“I was _sick_ ,” you say, and it comes out a bit more spiteful than you intended it to. “I guess my body wasn’t prepared for channeling all of the shit that Bro made me put him through yesterday.” The rest of the smirk that remains on Dave’s face collapses in on itself, and it makes you feel satisfied in a way that makes you think that maybe you’re displacing your resentment for yourself out on him. You’re way too past the point of giving a fuck right now. You’re clenching your fists so hard it almost hurts. “This isn’t all fun and games, Strider. I learned that lesson real fucking fast.” 

Dave is silent, and you get the feeling that he is staring _right at you_. The intensity of it somehow seems to drain away some of your rage.

Very slowly, calmly, he asks, “Tough day?” Everything leaves you in a huff. 

“You have no fucking clue.” You palm your eyelids with your hands. “I almost fucking told him, Dave,” you say, and once again you can’t tell what side of the scale you land on; ‘relieved’ or ‘disappointed’. “About me. I was this close.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Dave asks, still slow.

“Yes,” you say, and even though you already knew it, it’s like a revelation was achieved through speaking it out loud for the first time. “Fuck, yeah, it would.”

“Why? Dude, I only got a look at him for like five seconds and I can already tell he’ll be cool with it from the way he was looking at you.” Something twinges in your gut at that, and you’re afraid that it shows on your face.

“I know.”

“Then what are you so worried about?”

“My father is the kindest, most loving, and all-accepting man that has ever walked across this shit-poor excuse for an earth.” You have no doubt your tone is completely sincere, because you really mean every word you say. “Not once in my life have I ever known him to truly hate anyone. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? Hell yes. But trust me,” and this is the part where your voice drops, where true sincerity comes into play, “When I say that he would make an exception for me, and what I did.”

Dave asks it like parts of him really want to know, and like the rest of him knows he’ll regret it once he does.

“What happened?”

Every fucking day, you replay that one moment in your mind, turning it over and over, trying to figure out what ways you could have prevented it and what ways you didn’t. Every nightmare you have is of her, every regret and little bit of self-loathing can be traced back to the very second that you tore apart what you had loved most. What you still love most. 

You deserve it utterly and completely, but you can not bring yourself to re-live that pain through speaking it out loud.

So instead you repeat the phrase that describes your entire existence.

“I fucked up,” you say, and you refuse to be ashamed of the way your voice cracks. “And it was all my fault.”

The silence that follows is heavy and sad, at least to you, and the moment is broken when the ground and sky shift in unison and you find yourself suddenly pitching forward. Then the world is all white and red, and you realize that it’s because your face is currently buried in Dave’s shoulder where he moved to catch you.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you breathe, and Dave adjusts you so that one arm is slung over his shoulder and one of his is around your waist. Breathing is much easier now that you’re inhaling actual air instead of a faceful of fabric.

“Wow, you really need to take it easy,” he says, and begins moving toward the door to your house.

“Strider,” you say, and with the way your speaking skills have suddenly been flushed down the toilet it comes out more like _Stirduh_. “Don’t you dare.” _Don’ you der._ “ _Don’ you ffcckin-_ ”

Dave opens the door with his free hand, and begins to tug you inside.

“Shh, just rest now,” Dave says, closing the door behind him with a foot. “Doctor Strider will take good care of you. Yo KarDad, where’s his room?” You can just make out your dad through blurry vision - wow you really went to shit in the space of a view seconds - and you think he looks momentarily alarmed before he - is that a fucking _smile_ on his face?!

“Upstairs, first door on the right.” 

“Awesome,” Dave says, and he pulls you to the stairs.

“Get _off_ me-” you manage to croak out, until your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth and you suddenly can’t talk any more.

“Actually, it’s you all over me, babe,” Jesus, Strider, your dad is still within hearing range!- “Get your facts straight.” He carries you up the stairs as if you weigh nothing, and opens the door to your room. The books you knocked over before are still scattered on the floor, and he steps over these to lay you on your bed. He then takes the opportunity to tuck you in.

“Fnng yy.” 

“What’s that? ‘Fungi’? I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up,” he says, all mock innocence, and in that moment you want nothing more than to strangle the fuck out of him.

Before you can try to reply, unconsciousness plunges you into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So i'm participating in Nano this year! I have a few chapters finished beyond this point but otherwise the upload time may slow down. wanted to let you know what to expect! If you're participating and want to add me as a buddy, my username is impartial0bserver with a zero ^_^


	9. A FUcking Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this FUcking chapter

The next day is a Saturday, and you’re almost afraid that Karkat won’t show up until he does. He looks a little bit worse for wear, but otherwise fine, and you can’t help but feel relieved. 

Karkat had passed the fuck out on you, so you’d done the only thing you could: you left. Not to say that the little chat with his dad afterwards hadn’t been interesting.

“Dave, correct?” He’d said, stopping you before you could get back out the door.

“Yep, that’s me,” you’d replied, and something in Mr. Vantas’ face changed in a way that you couldn’t identify but still managed to set you on edge.

“Are you the one he’s always with after school?” He asked, but the way he said it spoke loud and clear that he already knew the answer. You’d seen no reason to try to lie to him.

“Yeah.”

“A word to the wise, Mr. Strider,” He said, opening the door for you. “I will do anything to protect my son.” Looking straight into Mr. Vantas’ brown eyes, for a moment it almost looked like they had flashed red. He’d held the authority of a parent then, absolute and terrifying. 

You’ve been trained to fight by Bro since the moment you could walk. You learned to use a weapon with deadly precision the moment you could hold a sword. You may not be as fast as Bro but you have never, not once, been beaten in a race by anyone else, and it shows when you spar. With Mr. Vantas’ obviously damaged leg his range of movement is cut short, his balance thrown off with one well-aimed kick and his trachea crushed beneath your foot the moment you can get him down. You know he can fight through the way his arms rest, the position of his footing, but you also know that his weak-points outweigh his advantages.

You have no doubt that in one situation alone, he would completely, utterly, destroy you.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And you’d made your way out. 

Right now you and Karkat are chilling in your room, you surfing the internet on your laptop and him trying to catch up on the homework that he missed. You don’t understand why he cares so much about school. You’d think something like that wouldn’t matter much in the face of the end of the world, but here he is, poring over his algebra book like it holds the answers to everything. Which is kind of stupid, because it is literally full of problems.

Karkat sits up suddenly. “She’s here,” he says, and a moment later there’s a tapping on your window. He opens it before you can get up, and FB hops into the room. She has several new scars, tufts of feathers missing from small patches on her wings and back, some on her chest. One rather new one is over one of her eyes, shiny white scar tissue standing out over black, but under closer inspection you find that the actual eye part is just fine.

“You look like shit,” Karkat says. FB makes a low warning “krrrr” in her throat, and then Karkat seems to remember who he’s talking to. “Sorry.”

“‘It was necessary,’” you translate. “‘I needed information from some...unwilling sources.’ Who did you fuck up this time?”

“ _An old agent of mine,” she says, and then smugly, “He needed to be put back in his place.”_ You wolf-whistle.

“Niiice.”

“What were you looking for?” Karkat asks, obviously wanting to know but trying not to be disrespectful. It’s almost cute.

“‘The locations of all of the shadows you must target. The instant the first one is brought back to the flesh and destroyed, every one will know. They will most likely try to find hosts on the spot, and gather as much power as they can. If they gather enough, they can make a physical body of their own and we lose the element of surprise, which is why it is crucial that you know their locations before you begin.’” She stops there. “And? Where are they?”

_“It is unsettling,”_ She says. She then proceeds to tell you where each one of them is. 

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Karkat asks, obviously irritated for being left out of the loop.

“They’re all literally within five miles of here.”

“Seriously?” You nod. “How many of them even are there?”

“Four of them,” you say. “One of them is the one attached to Rose. The second is the one in the building, and there are two more roaming around doing fuck knows what.”

“Hmm.” Karkat pauses, hand cupping his chin. His thinking-really-hard face is kind of adorab- wow what the fuck brain really inappropriate time to be thinking stuff like that. “Obviously, Rose needs to be first. If we do another one, the shadow around her will wake up and destroy everything it can.” Another pause. He looks up at you this time. “But first you need to learn how to tap into your time shit.”

“Well the problem with that is I have no fucking clue what to do,” you say. 

_“Which is where I come in.”_ Flighty Broad taps her claws against the wood of the window-sill. _“It would not be wise to experiment in an enclosed space. I will be waiting for you on the roof.”_

“Well. That settles that.” You stand up, and Karkat follows you out the door. Upstairs and outside, FB waits in the middle of the roof, a pile of trash scattered around her. You take a seat in front of her, but Karkat stays back by the door where he can still see you, but probably where he guesses he’s out of range. 

“So what do I do?” You ask, because you have never once passed up the opportunity to be a smartass. “Do I call on the Force? Do a tribal chant? Channel the spirit of some mystic god?”

_“It is moments like these that make me question why I ever put up with you,”_ she says.

“Aw, you know you love me.”

_“Sometimes, I wonder.”_ She moves on before you can fake offense. With a gesture of her beak, she motions for you to pick up a piece of garbage. You grab the first thing you touch, a piece of crumpled paper. _“Now for your first lesson,”_ she says. _“To fight the shadow, you must first rewind it’s time to a moment when it was made of flesh. However, it is much easier to speed the process of decay than to reverse it.”_ Makes sense, you guess. _“Now. Try to move that paper’s time forward as far as you can.”_

“How?” You ask. You really have no idea how to do this shit.

_“Time is not my Aspect, Knight,”_ she says. _“I can tell you only what makes sense and that which I have learned from others. After that, it is up to you to interpret the information and do with it what you will.”_ You bite back a sigh. Looks like you have your work cut out for you.

Well. Might as well dive right in.

You hold the paper in front of you with both hands, and try to focus. Almost instantly, the clock in your head shoves it’s way to the fore-front of your attention, _tick tock, tick tock, tick, tick, tick, tock_. You let instinct take over then, and very tentatively attempt to do something you’ve never considered before now: pushing the clock’s time forward.

It’s like. It’s like every sensation you’ve ever felt and everything you never will; happiness, anger, the razor-soft touch of feathers and the sharpest of pains in your throat. You get the feeling that if you let it, this power could tear apart this planet in a second. Instead, you focus it all into this small bit of paper.

You watch as it yellows in your hands, crumbling until it turns to ash and falls through your fingers as gray dust. The clock in your mind snaps back to it’s proper place.

_“Good,”_ FB says, and kicks a small rubber ball toward you. _“Now again.”_

It’s not tiring, not really. It feels _good_ , like stretching a sore muscle. But there’s no denying the pain, there, either. Each time the pain is a little different; a flash across your throat, a white-hot spearing in your chest, and each time the pain is just as real. It’s unexpectedly excruciating. Finally, the whole pile remains just as scattered ash and melted plastic.

_“Now put them back the way you found them.”_

“You gotta be shitting me,” you say. 

_“No.”_ Oh shit she’s serious. _“If you can not handle this now then there is no way you can handle a shadow. Do this now or be resigned to being responsible for the eventual destruction of your universe.”_

Siiiigh.

You go for the paper again. Easily the simplest one, and definitely the one that took the least energy. 

You push the clock back.

Doing so is like pushing against the very fabric of time itself. Destroying is one thing, speeding up a process that has already begun, but erasing something that has already happened is another, and the resistance that meets you leaves your head buzzing and your eyes burning. The world spins and spins and spins and the only thing keeping you anchored is the clock, the time, the ash that coats your fingers, until suddenly everything just seems to break and you lose the time in the resounding cracks. You’re vaguely aware of a hand shaking your shoulder.

“Dave you fucking dipshit, snap out of it! Fuck, your nose is bleeding!” Somebody picks you up and the way it’s done is sort of nostalgic to you except not, kind of like it’s in reverse. “Strider, can you hear me?” The panic in this person’s - Karkat’s -- Karkat’s? -- voice makes you answer, but the words aren’t the ones you intended them to be.

“I’m not a hero.”

“What?”

“Bro was.” The truth of the words hits you all at once, and you choke on it. Why the fuck did he have to sacrifice himself for you? “John _is._ ” John lead all of you up to this point. Without him you never would have made it this far. You pale in comparison in every way possible, which is why you look up to him. “I’m not.”

“What the ever loving _fuck_ are you talking about.”

“This shit is just like,” you struggle to find the words. “So completely illegal.”

“Oh God,” your support says. He sounds kind of familiar. “Oh no. Please don’t be broken, I need you to not be broken.” Your guide then says something that would throw you off balance if you were currently standing. He kicks open a door, and then shouts, “Bro!”

You then see something you thought you would never see again.

You see _him_. Standing. Sword-free. Alive.

He takes one look at you, and then says _“Fuck.”_ Suddenly, you are in his arms.

“I- I thought- y-you were-” Your mind is a swirling storm of confusion and unease, two parts of you slipping in and out of place. He’s alive -- of course he’s alive he’s -- older than you remem -- exactly the sam -- _alive_. You’re gasping for breath, trying to find solid ground to stand on and through it all Bro is stroking your forehead, shooshing you softly.

“It’s okay, Dave, shhh,” He says. “I’m right here. I’m fine, shh, see?” And he takes one of your hands and places it over his chest, right where there used to be a jagged gash, right where there never was one. Everything snaps back into place, and you remember who you are. _When_ you are. The image of Bro impaled on his sword refuses to leave the back of your eyelids when you blink.

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” you say, grabbing a fistful of Bro’s stupid white polo shirt. “Do that to me again.” _Don’t you dare die on me again. Not like that._

“No,” he says, and then he hugs you painfully, amazingly tight. “Nah, of course not, little man.” He brings you over to the couch, gentle as you’ve ever seen him, and you reluctantly let him go. He returns within seconds with water and towels, and you hold the latter against your nose after gulping down the water. You cradle your head with your other hand because wow, suddenly your head hurts a fuck ton. 

“What the fuck was that?” You don’t expect an answer, but Bro gives it to you anyway.

“Your soul split,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Or more specifically, your soul was remembering two separate versions of itself.”

“Awesome,” you say. “And how do you know all this?”

“You two ain’t the only ones with a Title, kids,” he smirks.

“Oh shit,” Karkat says. “You mean-”

“Yup. There are others out there.”

“Who?” you ask, and Karkat says “How many?” at the same time.

“Do I look like I have all the answers?” Bro says, shrugging. “I could probably remember if I destroyed my current one and let one’a mine from another timeline take it’s place, but that ain’t happening. I like this one just fine.”

“But then, how did you…” You wave at his chest, either unwilling or unable to finish the sentence. You think it might be both.

“I’ve had dreams,” he says, and the drop of his accent is more of a tell than anything. He really feels bad about this. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“It was necessary,” you say. Your brow furrows slightly. “I think.” There’s a rolling wave of pressure building behind your eyes. You struggle to focus on what Bro is saying.

“Regardless,” he says. He sighs. “Of all the memories for you to relive, I wish it hadn’t been that.”

“It’s not your fff. Ffaul. Th ffhk?” Wow where the hell did your words go?

“And finally it begins,” Karkat says. If you didn’t know him better you’d almost say he sounds pleased. Oh who are you kidding, he’s smug as hell right now. “Now marks the start of the time where your body adjusts to the shit you put it through. Enjoy, asshole.”

“Shht.” Aaaurgh stupid words.

“What was that? ‘Shit’? Yes, I agree, that is definitely something you are a piece of.” Okay you actually kind of do deserve that one. 

“Save the catfights for later, girls,” Bro says, and he picks you up bridal style. “The little man’s done for today.”

“Sure,” Karkat says. “See you on Monday, Strider.”

“Nnng.”

///

The wind that hits the cold spots where feathers used to be is an annoyance, and you fluff up the feathers that remain to try and compensate. The silence left on the rooftop in the wake of the two Knights hangs in the air, and you hop forward in the way that this body tends to do.

A paper flutters slightly in the wind, red with smears of blood but otherwise as pristine as if it had just been made.

You smile. You can not help it. So the Knight lives up to his past, after all. 

If the Horrorterrors think they will take command over this universe so easily after what had been fought to win it, they are badly overestimating themselves. But then, that’s what Gods tend to do.

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could have made this so, so sad. you are lucky that i was waaay too much of a wimp to go through with it. (i really am a wimp when it comes to writing really brutal sad stuck like, idk why, i read it all the fucking time)
> 
> heres a rundown for what happened to dave if ur interested/confused:
> 
> Basically, he over-exerted himself. It was necessary, at least according to crow BQ, but still really stupid. His soul pretty much started cracking where one part of it was remembering the universe in-Game, and the two parts of his soul are basically slipping in and out of place, thus leading to mass confusion and heart-wrenching memories on dave's part. you can pretty much assume that Bro used whatever heart powers he may have to fix that shit up.
> 
> As for how much Bro knows that the kids don't; that's up for interpretation ;)
> 
> (btw if anyone has any questions about this 'verse i would be more than happy to answer them :D)


	10. A FUcking Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! SO! I'm on an older computer for this one, and I"m not entirely sure if some text will show up okay - you'll know which ones. If it doesn't, please let me know and I'll put it as regular text until I can get to a better computer :)

Seeing Dave like that had been...strange. Feeling his heartbeat raise into an unsteady crescendo had been utterly _wrong_ , for reasons you can’t explain even to yourself. You’d absconded quickly, and it might have been for the better, anyway. You have the feeling that if you’d come home late and worn out like usual, there would have been no escaping your dad. You’d only barely managed it as it was.

You tap your pencil absentmindedly on your desk, your History teacher’s tired monotone droning on and on and on. She’s not even teaching anything new, just repeating what it says in the material with slightly different wording. Damn her voice is annoying. You’re half-tempted to cut her vocal chords, get her to finally shut up. Maybe you won’t even make it a clean cut, make it nice and messy, get her back for all of those half-assed lessons and make her _p-_

Where the _fuck_ did that come from? Did you seriously just think that right now. 

Well, it’s practically your right to. They should just be gratef-

_Seriously what the fuck?!_

Something isn’t right. You glance around the classroom nervously, but everything is just in it’s right place, all the little weaklings sitting in a you need to stop this train of thought before it gets any further. Nothing is wrong here except your fucked up ( _perfectly natural_ ) thoughts. But something is _there_ , you think, it’s just that you can’t tell what. There’s too many people in here, too many heartbeats and too much blood in your way for you to pinpoint anything specific. Your hands twitch with the thought that you could get rid of that problem easily, but fuck that noise.

No, wait. You stop tapping the pencil, straining to listen. What is that? You swear you’ve heard something like it before, if only you could-

The door opens. Inside steps Rose Lalonde.

The pencil snaps in half inside your fist.

Rose steps up to the teacher and hands her a slip of paper. She reads it over once before looking back up. 

“Welcome to the classroom. Find someplace you’d like to sit.” Rose looks over the desks, but you know her search is useless. There’s only one seat left, and that’s the one next to you.

She walks forward and sits down, watching you through the corner of her eye. The urge to snap her neck is overwhelming.

You don’t even pause to grab your backpack before you bolt out of the room.

///

You’re just a tiny bit surprised when you see Rose approaching you at lunch, a new backpack in one hand and Karkat’s in the other. Actually, no, you’re pretty fucking surprised.

“Rose!” John says. “What are you doing here?”

“Yes, Rose,” you repeat. “What are you doing here?” Rose at least has the decency to look slightly guilty. She could have at least warned you.

“Mother called me an hour ago and told me that she thought it would be best for me to complete the rest of the year here with you,” she says, and her tone becomes more bitter. “Then she went on to say that my first day was today and she would have called earlier but she slept in, thus making me late for my first day of school and unable to tell you before you left.” 

“Why do you have Karkitty’s backpack?” Nepeta asks, looking at Rose curiously.

Oh shit. If Rose is here, then so is the shadow. The one that was making Karkat go all murderous.

“Rose, where is he?” Rose hands the backpack off to you.

“I walked into my first class and the only seat available was the one next to his. He left the classroom rather abruptly. I thought I would give one of you his backpack to hold for him.” So he was able to get out of there before he did something disastrous, then.

“I’ll go find him and give him his stuff,” you say, standing up from your seat.

“I’ll go with you!” 

“Nah, you stay here with Rose, Egbert,” you say. “Introduce her to the wonders of Shit-Hole High.” You leave before he can protest, trusting that Rose will distract him long enough for you to get out of sight. You have a feeling you know where he might be, anyway.

Out in the field, under the bleachers, you find him, his head buried in his hands. He jumps when you drop his backpack by his feet, which is a little worrying. You’ve never seen him get spooked from someone sneaking up on him outside of Bro.

“You alright man?” You ask, sitting down beside him, even though he’s pretty obviously not. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.

“No,” he says, which was what you expected, but the shortness of it surprises you a little. No long-spieled rant that’s aimed to insult everyone within a hundred-mile radius? He rubs at his temples, elbows on his knees. “I can’t go to any of my other classes in case she’s there, which means I’ll be marked down as truant. And since this is one of _those_ schools, they’ll probably phone my dad about it and I’ll be in an even bigger heap of shit.”

“I can get her schedule for you,” you offer. “See what you have to work with. She takes AP classes, so you probably don’t have to worry about much.”

“ _I_ take AP classes,” he says, glaring at you. You should’ve expected that one, actually.

“Oh.”

“How’s your… thing?” He asks after a second, waving a hand in the air vaguely, and it takes you a moment to figure out what he means.

“Fucking awesome,” you say. “Now that I’ve got the hang of it it fucking rocks. Every time Bro and I strife I just disintegrate his sword.” He still kicks your ass though, but Karkat doesn’t need to know that.

“I bet he still kicks your ass.”

“S-t-f-u.” 

There’s a minute of silence, Karkat still rubbing at his temples, and you let your mind wander. It’s a nice day outside, a little warm, but nothing at all compared to the Texas summer heat. Birds chirp merrily some unknown distances away, none of them crows.You try to imagine FB tweeting like a songbird, but the only thing your brain can muster up is the image of her flipping you off with her feathers.

Speaking of the devil.

Flighty Broad flies in on top of the bleachers, hopping under the space between the seats to get a good look at both of you. 

_“The shadow is here.”_

“Yeah, we already figured that one out, thanks.”

_“And I brought a guest.”_

“Oh wait, what?”

A black blur dives through the gaps in the bleachers in a daredevil stunt, slamming into Karkat and digging its claws into his hair to bring a stop to its momentum. You wince behind your shades; you know from experience that that is fucking painful.

“AAUGH WHAT THE FUCK!!” 

_“Wake up ya little shit!”_

The crow pecks sharply against Karkat’s forehead twice before dropping down to his knee, turning his head to stare at him with his his right eye, and you realize it’s because he has the same scar FB does, except he wasn’t so lucky as to escape with both of his eyes intact. His feathers are more ragged than FB’s, scar-ridden and oozing a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude.

Karkat glares at him, rubbing his forehead.

“What the fuck was that for?!”

“‘For bein’ a little snot.’” You nod your head towards the strange crow when Vantas glares at you, and then the both of them proceed to have a glare-off. 

“What did you bring him here for?” You ask FB while they go at it.

 _“I didn’t,”_ she says, sounding annoyed. _“When he learned that the other Knight was here he insisted on coming back with me. I thought I had lost his trail on my way back here, but obviously I was mistaken.”_

_“Don’t ya be lookin’ at me like that!”_

_“Ow!”_

“Hey, whoever you are,” you say, and the crow swivels his head to give you a crow glare. “Pissing him off might not be the best idea right now. Just warning you.”

_“It’s Slick to you, ya brat.”_

_“I don’t know why you still insist on going by that name,” _FB says wearily, like she’s had this discussion countless times before and she already knows what he’s going to say.__

_“It’s a good name,”_ He says, with the voice of someone who’s defended themselves against a certain point countless times before. _“Served me well over the years. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”_

 _“If you say so,”_ she says, but the tone in her voice says the opposite. _“I, for one, am glad to be rid of my old moniker and all it entails. But I am not here to have such useless debate. There is something we must discuss.”_

“Is it about the shadow?”

“And about how it’s getting stronger?” Karkat breaks in. “I can still feel it even from here, which means unless you want to be a pile of blood and feathers you should really _stop pissing me off!”_

 _“Drama queen.”_ You don’t translate. Somehow you think that would be a bad idea.

“‘It is getting stronger, much more quickly than I previously anticipated; which is why we must deal with it as quickly as possible. Tonight, to be more precise.’ Uh. Wow. Isn’t that a bit sudden?”

“I say it’s perfect,” says Karkat. “If we wait then there’s no telling what I might end up doing. School is already fucking stressful as it is without this mess, I’ll probably end up killing half the school population before the end of the week. Unless you don’t think you’re up to it?” He turns to you at the last part, one eyebrow raised and oh it is on.

“Bitch, please,” you smirk. “I can take down a shadow monster on my worst day.”

_“Get a room.”_

You might have spluttered just a tiny bit. You erase that moment from your memory forever.

“Oi!”

FB laughs, the traitor.

“What? What did he say?”

FB laughs even harder.

///

TG: alright you ready  
CG: MOTHER FUCKER I WAS *BORN* READY.  
TG: thats the spirit  
TG: ok just come over like we said and then well run over the plan again  
CG: ROGER THAT.  
TG: peace out  
TG: haha jk lets bring some fucking chaos up in this bitch

You close out the Pesterchum window on your laptop. You feel like you should be bringing something, like some sort of weapon, or some fucking snacks, but the only thing necessary is you. It’s oddly surreal, knowing that by the time the sun rolls around this “war against gods”, as BQ has called it, will have been started. There will be no going back.

It’s ever so slightly terrifying

“And where do you think you’re going?”

This, however, is much more terrifying.

You stand facing the front door, your father’s gaze burning into your back. You had hoped that you’d be able to get out without running into your dad, but your luck, however, remains as shitty as ever.

“Out,” you say, and you hope that your tone at least comes out casual. Traitor voice that it is, it doesn’t.

“At this time of night?”

“I made plans.” You swallow, and begin to move towards the door. 

“Are you going to come back like you did those other times?” He asks, sounding determined and not a little bit desperate. “How much longer are you going to do this? How much more do you have to hurt yourself before you’re satisfied?”

You’re not just hurting yourself, you realize. He’s hurting, too, and it makes you feel incredibly guilty.

You have no reason for what you do next, no excuse. Maybe it’s because of the stress, because of the fucking shadow that had been tyring to worm it’s way in between the cracks of your mind. Maybe, somehow, the shadow still has a smoke-tendril’s grip on your thoughts. Either way, you find yourself being suddenly pushed over the edge, and you are very, very angry.

“You have _no fucking right_ ,” you growl. “To talk about things that you don’t understand, old man. I’m going.” Red clouds your vision in an angry haze, and after a moment it clears enough for you to see your dad standing between you and the door.

And he says, “No.”

Indignation flames up in your chest, and for a moment you can’t find the words.

“Get out of my way,” you say. “Before I fucking kill you.”

The determination on his face you’ve always known him for melts away into something sad and disappointed, and it’s like the anger is washed out of you, leaving you cold and empty.

“Alright,” he says quietly, shuffling to the side, leaving the path to the door wide open. “Alright.”

You slam the door behind you on your way out, and you stop in the front steps for moment, breathing in, breathing out.

What the fuck is wrong with you.

Nevermind. The numbers are too long for you to count.

///

_“Okay, so let’s go over it again.”_

_“First we get Rose up on the roof.”_

“Hey, Rose, you got a second?”

Rose looks up from the book she’s reading at the sound of Dave’s voice. You think she might be smiling, but it’s hard for you to tell.

“I always have time for you, dear brother. Hello, Karkat,” she says. “It’s rather late for a study session, is it not?”

“We have something real special made up for you,” Dave says before you can say anything. “You’ll love it, come on.”

“Sounds interesting.”

You’re painfully aware of her heartbeat as she follows you down the hall to the stairs of the roof. You’ve long since abandoned trying to force out the shadow’s influence from your mind; the only thing you can do now is keep yourself from acting on the bloody thoughts crowding your head.

_“FB said that it should take a little while for it to get used to being a real boy, but tying her up would probably still be a good idea.”_

“This must be a very peculiar surprise.”

“It’s great, it’ll be like Christmas come early.” Dave tightens the knots keeping Rose on the chair, a light breeze pushing his hair into his eyes. How he even learned to tie those types of knots, you don’t even want to know. You have a feeling that if you asked he’d just smirk and say “Eagle Scouts” or something.

“Hm.” You get the feeling that Rose sort of knows what’s going on, from the way she relaxes into her bonds. There’s a faintly hopeful look in her eyes when you see them. Fuck, you hope you can finish this. For her at least, if not for you.

_“Then you do your time shit and get the fuck out of dodge.”_

Dave backs up to stand beside you.

“Time to bring the chaos?” you suggest.

“Time to bring the mother fucking chaos,” Dave smirks. He pauses for a moment, and then brings up his hands.

The wind picks up from a light breeze to something a little stronger in moments, and Dave grunts. The shadow’s sleepy mumbling goes from a low murmur to a piercing screech in the same amount of time. You clap your hands uselessly over your ears. Rose screams.

You feel it as Dave’s nose begins to bleed again, but otherwise he looks fine, not like he’s about to succumb to another case of soul-splintering like the first time he tried to use his powers.

“Almost... _there_ …” And then your ears pop in the sudden pressure change, as previously unoccupied air is displaced.

_“And then, while it can’t do anything, you hit it with your bloody thing and we skip merrily into the sunset.”_

The last part of the plan echoes in your mind, but you are too busy momentarily flipping the fuck out to act on it right now.

Holy mother of _FUCK._

The shadow isn’t just shadows any more, instead composed of inky black flesh. The edges of it almost seem faded away, blurred at the edges as if it’s body is too big to be seen all at once.

Rose is deathly silent, completely slack against her restraints, until,

I͂ ̀̓s͒̅͐eͨ̋͛e̐̒ ͯͦỹ̓̽̄ou͗ͯ͛.ͩ̾̋̆ͮ̍

Your legs buckle involuntarily under the weight of its voice, and you gasp as your knees hit the floor. You thought it couldn’t get worse with the way it whispered, the way it suggested things as if those thoughts were your own, but this is too physical. This is too real, and it is _strong_. You feel something warm and wet trickle down from your ears. You know without having to check that it’s blood.

Rose blinks at you from her chair, her eyes glowing a blank white and her skin the same ink-shade as the monster still wrapped around her and spilling over her lap. She strains against the ropes, but Strider’s knots are strong, and they don’t break. 

Y̍̍ͨ̐͂oͪu ͑̇̂ͯ̐͗̾t͊̐̄̈́͑ͭḧö̿ͪ͌̐ͯü͌g̒̑̅ͣh͒̃͆͐̓͊ťͤ̎ ͣy̍̓̀ͮ͛ͥͤo͋̓̏͊́ű ̏ͨ̊̃cͬͩ̃ͭ̀̈́o͑̂̍ͯu͒̂͐̓̐͗̆l͒̋̄̐̒̈̄d̋ͪ̍ͫ H̃̈́ͫ̓̀Ĭͮͮ̽̚D̑ͬ̉͆̃Ȇ ͑ͨ̐͑fr̽͋͂̚om̓͋͗ͮ́̈́̊ ̑͌̈́̈́̋ͭ̚uͮ̑̊ͣs̃̐͒͂

The chair begins to creak, and a splash of red drops down from your nose. Your head pounds in tempo with your heart.

“Vantas, shit! What the fuck, why are you bleeding?!” Dave doesn’t seem to hear it.

T̑he͂ͩͫͬ̽re͂ͦͫ iͨ̿s͑̊ͥͦ̋ͨͤ ͯn̏ͣͪ͆ͤoͬ̈ͭͮ̈́̐ e͛̋͌ͧͤ͂ŠCͬͦȀ͆̂̀̓ͮ̄̂̿P͌́̽̏ͦ͐̈ͣEͤͪ͐͋̐̈́̓ ̓̌͐ͮwͪ̿ͥ͆̂́̌e͐̈́ͦͬ ̂ͭͤͣ͊ͭͫ̽̔w̓͂̍̈̌̈́͂̚iͮ͆͑l̽̾̊̑͌lͨ̂́ͬͦͩ ̋̈̽̐ͩͤͤT̏̊̀Aͭ̑ͦN̂͋G͊̓̃ͣL̈́ͬͧ̓̉̍Ė̚ ͬ͐́̾ͤ̀̄̚̚w͑̐ͤi͑̾ͤ͆l͛̌l̑̃ ͆ͣ̂̏̒̃̈͗Dͫ̾ͭ̂̅̐̌I͛̓̓͋̎̿S̾̌Rͤ̋̅͌͛̚Uͫͫ̓͐͂͌̈́PͤT̽ͬ͋͌͌ ̄̏̌̑̿d̾ͥ͗ͮͮ̚i͆̉s̃̓̾ͮ̍̿o̊̓ͩ͛́r̀̈d̋͛͆̈e͌̏̋̿̅͐̅ṙͣ̎͗̋̇͛̇ ̋̂ü̈́͗p̋͂̐̉̅̈́̚̚h̉͒ͬͥ̏e͋̈͐̎̔a͌͂ͥ̈́ͣ̚v̏̍͂͗̌e͂̑̋ͦ͌̌d̔̒̎̅ͤ̅̅i̇͑̑̒ͨ͊̅s͌͒̀t̀ͥ̾o̔ͪrͦ̎ͦtͧd̓ͪ̽ͪ͂̓͋ͪͩe̒̅̆f̆ͧ̏̔͌̂ͬo͒̃̔̍̒̂̔̎̍r̐̚m̿ͤͥ̈̔

Every word is like a blow, a tearing of thorns behind your eyes. If someone opened up your skull and began picking away your brain piece by piece with a pair of rusted scissors it would be easier to bear.

“T͗̐͛̎͑̍h̃ͥ̈́eͤ͗̿r̄̎ͦe͌͂̎ͣ ͗ͣ̔ͣiͤ͊̑̽͗̄s̓͆ͭ̄͗ ͥͧͮͩ̉͒̑͋n̉ͫͫͦ͌oͤ̅̂ͤ͛ ͥ̆̽̔͆͛̈ͩe̎̃̏ͮ̚ś̉c̑́̇̏̒̉ă̿p̓̂̐eͣ̃̇̈́̀̾ͩͩ ̿͑ͦ͂w͂͒ͯͧ͒ͫeͭ͛̚ ̒͊̿ͮ̑͛ͩ͆a̎̂̑̏̅ͫ̆r̒̓͛ͦ͐eͭ̓̇̚ ͂e͂̽̇͐͗͐v̏̓͌̐̃̚eͭ̄̈́̏͛̏r̔ͥͪ̐̈́yͧ̿ͧ̎͐͊ͤͪw͑̽ͤͦͦ͆͆͑h̐ͩ͂̃̈́͂̉ȅ̓ͥͤ́r͋͊ͧ̉̍͆̓ͯe̅͋͆̇̈́̄ͧ̌.”

Rose speaks now as well, but her voice is almost hidden among the wreckage of a thousand other voices. It’s the audible equivalent of broken glass, and you just want it to stop.

“What the shit. Vantas, you need to finish this now!”

"̇̈͛̂̽W̾͆͗̆̾e͒ͯ́͑ͦ͑ͤͬ̉ ̎̾͗̌͋ͥ̎ͣa͂̎ͯ̓ͯ̅r̍͊͊ê̈͑ͨ̃̐ ̈́eͫ̇ͯͭ̑v͂̈eͪͭ̀ͨͤr̔̒̒yͤͥ͊ͣt̋͒̀ͤ̍̂͊̚h͑̔̄ͯ͐ͣ͐ỉ̋ͨ̇͗̎ͮ̚ṅ̍̿ĝͪ̾̋̆ͭ͛ ̉̓͋̓ͦàǹ̓ͯd͑̌̒ͤ͌ ̅̀̑̔̊́̿e͑̓͛ͭ̉̽ͨͩv͊̄ͥeͣ͆̈́ͦͤͫr̄ͮy͛̂͐͆̒ͬ̇͑t͒h̒̀ͮͮ̊͊̚i͋̂͒̓̈́ͤͨnͨ͐̿ͧ̋͑ͫ͋g͑̒ ͭͬ̏͋ͦ̚í̓̅͂ͩ́s̓ͯ ̆̊̐ͦ̅uͨͭs̏̑̒ͮ͗̄̌̐,͌ͦͧ̚"̾̉̌ The thing controlling Rose says, and she rolls her head back and forth. 

"̅͌̀Wͮͣͥ͋ͯͪ̃ͧh͒̏y͒̓̚ ͊̅̐ͮ͂̊d̐͂ͩ̃ͨ̒o͛̆̍̓̍̌̒̀͌ ̌͑͗̈yͣ̊̾̓ͤo̊͗ͦ́uͤ̏ͩͨ̈́͑̚ ͧ̀͒ͫ̒̾́̾̾r̔͌̀ͦ͂͋̉ͣêͯ̑s̄̆i̒ͬ͒͊͆̚ś̍͑̄̿ͧͫ̎̚t͌͐́ ̂ͤ̿͑̔̓̐̉w̒̑h̉ͦ̽̾̎ͦ̉eͧ̇ͮ̐nͮͤ̄ ̄̉̊̍͛ͭ̾͒y̑̀o̓̍̃̓̂͒̓̔ͨǔ͋̔ ̉̑͌ͬ̉̃͌ĉͥ̒ͫ̽̽̋ͩaͯ́ͨ̎ͤͣ̓ͮ͆n͒̑ͭ ̽͛b̈͐̎̈̈è̓̾̿ͯ̑c͋͂̿͒͒oͦͪͯm͒̆ͧ̒ͭ̌ͪͥ̈́e͌ ̈̾̿͗ͪ̌̿̒úͯ́ͦ̿̿̆ͪͨs̃̇͋͗̒.̂ͣ̿"̓́ͪ̆ͥ̈́

You - you can’t think. You can’t think because it’s so _fucking loud._

“Shut up.”

"ͮ̾̓̽̉W͛̄ͧ͒̓̓̉̈ͦe͆̐ ̉́̊̏̄̏c͛̅â̂͗̓̓́̆n̑ ̎̒͂̑̀̓͛m̀͒a̓̃͆̀́̍kͦ̍̐̈̊e͋ ̎t̀ͧ̓ͣh̒͊͌̓̄͆̾i͌͑ͧ̈́nͭͧg̓ͮͨͩ͌s͋̒͗ͨͧ ͂̈́͂̆͂̀̑̏b̑̉̔e͆̇ͩ͊t̿̎̆̂̂t͆̏ēͬ̏ͮ̇r̒ ͫͮw̑ͩͣ̀͐̚e̊͌ ̽ͫ̑cͭ͛ͯa̔͋ͤ͂̈́̌ͮͫ̚nͦ̄ ̄͋̇͊ͭ̚mͧ̑ā̚k͂ͥ̚e̐ͣ̇̊ ͑͆ỳ͛ͩ̓̌̇oͯ̎̈́͋͂̂͐u͒̒ͫ̋ ͯͮ̽͑̀̚h͑̉ͤ̌̔̂ͣ̔͗Ä̃̌ͥͯ̎̃̌̌p͊̉̎͒̔̋pͪ̋̍̊ͧͣ͆̽̍ẙͭ̓ͭ͗ͬͦͪ.̒̈͂͋ͣ"͒̾́

“I said shut UP!”

"ͨ̍ͥ̆͗ͮ̀̎̍Ȏ̒͆͐͗ͧ͆̚h̑͒̓ ͪͣͬͪ͗̓ͯ̿b̈́̿u̎t͛̑̿̑̓̚ ͣ͋ͩͭ̄̃d̔̉ͧ͒ͧoͫ͋ͫ̀̽ͧnͨͥͤ͊ͤ̍̎̎ͦ'̅ͯ̉̾̅̿̾t̅͌̍ ͗̂ͩ̑y̋͐̔ͭȍ̓ͩú̔ ͌ͧ̎̉̌̏̏w̒ͦ͆a͐͛ͣ̽̅͛n͒t̏ͭ̋̀͗̿͋ ̐ͩͯ̾tͥͥͤͭͥò́̐ͪ̊ ͯ̒͊̒̿̏̐̚S̽̂ͭE̒ͪͦÊ̐ͩ̾ ̈́̔̏͌h̽e̓ͩ́̍̚̚r̊͂̆̂̎ͭ̽̓ ̂ͫ̐̊̌̀a͒ͣ̉ĝ͆ͮ̌aͯ̐ͥ͋͆͐iͭ̋̋͒̾ͥ͒ͮ̏n̓̆̿͂͑͛ͥͪ?̔̈̾ͩ"͒ͯ̑ͫ̓

And now it’s gone too far, everything is red again, red red red, and there’s this too-familiar copper taste in your mouth and a horrible flare of pain in your head and you _can’t-_

No. No, it’s fine. Everything is _fine._

Everything is _great._

**"̂ͫ͑̚C̓͛̌͆H̽ͥ̊͛͗̐͋̓A̋ͦOͫ̇̅̆ͤ̌̒S͒ͯ̊͊͛̆.͊͗̋"̐ͧ͌̋**

You smile. Yes, ( _no no **stop** _) that sounds perfect. You stand. The vessel smiles at you, pleased, from within her bonds. Her heartbeat is slowing steadily; it won’t last much longer under these conditions ( _FUCK _).____

“Finally. Hurry it _up_ , Vantas.”

“How about we take our _time_ , Strider.”

“What.”

You turn to him, and what he sees in your face must scare him because his heart skips unsteadily for a moment before calming again. Now, that won’t do. You begin to walk toward him, and he has the sense to start walking back.

“Vantas?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?” 

He’s backed up as far as he can get without falling off the roof ( _shitshitshit_ ), his back to the open air. The beautifully red trail of blood from his nose is stark against his pale face, and you walk just a little bit closer. You could make him walk right over if you wanted to, make his foot go back just that little itty bitty inch, until he fell and fell and he was nothing more than a smear against the pavement. It would finish the job from last time, at least. But no. That would be much too quick.

“Having fun with you, before I kill you.” His heart staccatos for another beat.

“How about _no._ ” You feel a flash of anger.

“You don’t get a fucking call on this one, Strider. Maybe you should try begging.” Dave seems to take that as solid advice.

“C’mon, Karkat,” he says. “You can’t really kill me.”

“Oh, I think I can, Dave,” you croo. “I killed my mother, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUN.
> 
> i'm not entirely sure how to feel about this chapter.... and now that this has been posted, I have now depleted my chapter reserves! The next one may come up a little late.
> 
> My friend half_a_league just came up with an amazing halostuck au that you should definitely check out. here.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1042665/chapters/2083773
> 
> And she writes for the Walking Dead fandom as well :D
> 
> (holla for fixing formatting errors xD)


	11. A FUcking Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5500 FuCKING WORDS

“So, if I can fast-forward time to destroy all this shit, why can’t I do the same thing with the shadow or whatever?” you’d asked, gesturing around at the pile of debris scattered around you. “I mean, it just seems that Vantas being here is kind of obsolete, if you ask me.”

“Fuck you too, asshole,” Karkat sneered from a couple feet away, mirroring your cross-legged position on the floor. Flighty Broad pecked at a half-melted McDonalds cup sitting between you two. It almost looked like one of those weird contemporary art pieces or something. Who knows, maybe you could actually start up a line of your own - “Objects Touched by Time”. Hipsters and oldies trying to stay hip with the times will be lining up from all over the place taking shitty instagram pictures and asking their grandchildren “Is it supposed to look like that?” Yes. Perfect.

 _“That,”_ FB said, _“Would be incredibly stupid. To even attempt such a thing would be asking to die an endless death.”_

It’s reflex to start translating out loud now that Karkat’s around, and once you were done you sat thinking it over for a minute, waiting for her to explain. She didn’t.

“Well?” You asked, raising one eyebrow. “Care to tell me _why_ , or are you pulling mysterious crow bullshit on this one?”

 _“I don’t know why you still insist on saying that when I have been nothing but forthcoming.”_ She clicks her beak once, smartly. _“If you keep this up I’ll have to start withholding information from you just to spite you.”_

“So is that a yes…?”

 _“Of course not.”_ She cocks her head to the side, thinking. _“Your powers operate time, yes, but only a very specific type. You affect, not the object’s time as it progresses through certain circumstances, but the state of the object itself. If you were to manipulate this cigarette,”_ she said, kicking the stub of it with her claws, _“So that its time was rewound, you would not be bringing it back to the point where it was lit; it would simply rewind the aging process and restore it to what it once was. Fast-forward it, and it will not come to the state it’s in as we see it now, but age until it begins to deteriorate and fall apart._

 _“The thing to understand about the Elder Gods is that they do not age. They can only gain power as time progresses. If you were to attempt to speed their time, you would find yourself not with a pile of dust but instead a monster even more powerful than the one you started out with. In this case, your powers are only useful to rewinding its time to a point where your fellow Knight can take advantage in the weakness of its blood.”_ She stretched her wings, looking almost bored, and you caught the gleam of one black eye watching you. _“Neither of you are obsolete, or any less important. You must understand that if this is to work.”_

“...Noted,” you said after a moment, and nodded. You sat in silence for a minute, appreciating a cool breeze as it came through on top of the roof. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but you were still sweating anyway.

“Anyway,” you broke in. “I’ve been thinking about how we even go through with this. First, we get Rose up on the roof…”

And you’d laid down a plan, step by step, going through it until even FB granted that there really was no way to get it any better. Too many specifics would just be setting up for failure, after all.

Holy tits fucking shit did you not ever even think of this happening, though.

Karkat stares at you, smiling in a way that makes your fingers itch for your sword. It’s hard to tell in the low light and through your shades, but you think his nose is bleeding, and maybe his ears. Rose is being all freaky-looking while the huge tentacle monster sways in the breeze, each movement squelching wetly - the smell in the air reminds you of the first and last time you ever went to the beach; salty, yet brinier, and faintly rotten. The empty space at your back is gaping and bottomless, and Karkat’s words hang almost casually in the air, like he was going through his grocery list. I need some milk, don’t forget the eggs and I killed my fucking mom. Also, I am going to kill you.

“Shit.”

“Not so curious to hear about it now, are you?” he asks, his voice itching at you in a way you can’t identify. All you know is you don’t like it. “But it’s an interesting story. Kind of funny, actually. I was, what, five at the time?” He cocks his head to the side, staring past you for a moment, and his smile widens.

“I don’t really remember _why_ I did it, though, you know? All I remember is us hanging out and then, bam! Blood everywhere. We never did get the stains out of the carpet before we moved,” he sighs. “I still dream about it sometimes.”

Normal!Kat translation: He killed his mom, with no memory why (aka no actual reason to blame himself for) and he still has nightmares about it. Aw man. Ouch.

“The doctors couldn’t figure out why it happened. She was perfectly healthy. They pegged it as some kind of freak accident.” His lips twitch upwards in amusement. “Of course, they couldn’t explain how my dad’s leg got fucked up out of nowhere. I’m sure it has nothing to do with how I freaked out afterwards.”

It comes to you, then, why Karkat’s voice is bugging you so much. He sounds content; _serene_ , even. Wow, you are about twenty million times more scared, now, you’re not even ashamed to admit it.

“Take them off,” Karkat says pleasantly, and for a moment you think he’s talking about your clothes. Then you see that he’s looking at your shades. Oh. Haha, of course that’s what he meant, stupid brain. You are so not taking off your shades, though.

“I think I’ll leave them on, thanks.” Karkat’s eye twitches.

“Take them off,” he says, more friendly than you’ve ever heard him, “Or I will boil your sister’s eyeballs out of their sockets and make you watch.”

Okay yeah taking off the shades now.

s̔ͩ͒ͪͩ͒ͫho͒́w̌͗́̔͛͗͑ ͨ͛͛̎̅̊ͨhi̊̋̃m̎̏ ̃ͤs̈͊̈͋̈́̄ͤh͆̋òͦ̾͌w͊̃̏̓̚ ͐ͩ̓ͯͨ͛hͫ͐i͂̃͋̂̿ͤ̎m̒̃ ͦ͊̀̃̇̎̅h͑e ͐͗̇̊̀ͫ̏c̽̎̔́ͨ͊ͤa͂̒ͧͨn̽͂ͪ͊̊͋̚ ͮͧ̃ͯͪ͐no̍ͬ̑͋͐͋̌t ̔̽ͤun̅̓̉dͭͥ͒e̍ͫ̃̈̑ͣr͋̃s͊ͪ̂ͭ̾̄tà͗̓̊n̎ͪd̃͑ͤ ͛ͩ͌n̂ͬͥͮo̾t͆ͫͣ̒̓̆ ͦ͐l̑iͮͤͥ̉k͂̅̒́̀͂̈e͋̒̋ͯ̈ ̍̍̆̋ͩ̓w̏̽̾̎̔͗ͪĕ̃ͯ ͦ̇͗͌dͬ̔ǒ̑̂̌ ͮ͛ͦͯ͐wͬͭͨ̇e͆̾͊̐ͥ ͧͣ̋̊ͭa͂̋rê̓ ̎̄y͌͂̄̒ͯ̆̚ǒ̎̈͊̎ủͯ̓̈́rͫ̎ ́͂ͨf̌͑̅ͧͫ̆a̓͒̒̈́m̌̃̔͗iͧ̋́̅lͯ̂ͤŷ̒͗ͤ͐̎ ͪ̍ͬ͐yo̔̏̇ͣ͐̾u͋̽ ̿̃ͩ͐ͧ̀́a̒̓͊̓rͫ̆e̒͂ͩ̓ͭ ̋a͐̓̈́ͬͤ̆bo̽̿̔ͬ̿vͩ̓ͥ̍̑e͗ͮ ͭ̓̃ͯ̉͊̎t́̊͑̎̌h̅́̃ͤeͧ͂̉ͯͯm͒͌ͦ͊̔̈́́ ̄á̈́̿̎ͥb͂͂̌͛̐̐o͗̐ͮͦ̚veͣ͆̓̋̾͐ ̒͒hͧ̉̈́͂̽ͣiͮ̐͒͛mͭ̔ͣ͆̋̂ͬ sͥ̊̉ͯhͧ̾͋̄̍̄ỏ̈́̊wͧ ̈́h͊iͯm͂ͭͯ̆̓ ̔ͫͨ͌̇̎͋s̎̍h̿ͬ̎̍o̍ͦw͊̍̄͆ h̃̑͗͌͗i͐̈́m̾ͦͧ ͒s͊̌ͬ̒hͧo͌͑wͮ̆ͦ͋̾ ̂̀h̍̆ͫ̄i̐̍̂M̐̈́̊̊

Wow holy fuck, is this what Karkat hears all the time? No wonder he gets all mudernasty.

But then that means… Maybe you can just…

“Hey Vantas, I’m gonna take a guess and say this isn’t you in control right now, so if the part of you that doesn’t want to get all personal with my insides is still in there give me a sign or something.” Please let this work, please please please…

“What are you talking about, Dave?” He says, but he nods minutely, such a small thing that if he didn’t scowl in irritation afterward before smoothing his face and smiling again you would’ve thought you had imagined it.

Jackpot.

Think, think, come on, how can you snap him out of wait why is he taking the leftovers of your bloody nose.

“You know, you’re really frustrating, Dave,” he says, and the sight of several drops of your blood floating in the air and spinning slowly in a small circle above his raised palm would probably be a lot more interesting if you weren’t worried about what he’s planning on doing with it. “I just can’t figure you out sometimes! One moment you’re begging me not to kill you and the next you keep pissing me off.”

 _Gotta think fast_. Ffff brain no this is not the time to be using shitty memes, what the hell.

“What can I say, I like to keep people on their toes.” Maybe you can appeal to his good side? That always works in movies. “If you kill me everyone is gonna be like, hella sad, though. Rose would be pissed. John would be devastated, poor guy. Bro would probably shed a manly tear and then kick your ass. He has powers too, remember? Who knows how many ways that bastard could fuck you up.” And yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to remind him that Bro won’t be coming back from his super-secret night-thing he never tells you about for at least another two hours but it’s too late to take the words back now. Screw your nervous rambles, which so aren’t a thing.

You feel a sting on your neck, and you realize it’s from one of the blood drops needling through the air fast enough to cut you. “That doesn’t matter if I kill him first, does it,” Karkat muses. Uhh, shit, shit, that went downhill fast. He takes a step forward, and a breeze tugs at your shirt. You are suddenly reminded that you are only a couple inches away from falling to a windy death.

“I mean, come on, man,” you say, pretty sure you’re babbling now but if you’re going to die then at least it will be because you were being a smartass instead of a coward. “You gotta snap out of it, seriously, there’s a fucking tentacle monster a couple feet behind you and if you don’t hurry it up and kill that fucking thing then it will _destroy the fucking universe, need I remind you-”_

“Shut up, Dave.” His voice is strained, eyes blinking rapidly, and if that’s not an _almost there_ then you don’t know what is.

“-and you know I’m not really ready to be erased from existance yet, sights to see, weird food to eat, homework to procrastinate, and I mean if you think that killing your mom was bad - sorry about that by the way that shit’s really messed up yo for serious - then how do you think you’ll feel when you’re responsible for the deaths of seven billion people, and I mean that’s not even counting all my alien bros out there, but I guess you won’t be feeling anything because you’ll be dead too-”

Another needle-sharp tick of blood, this time dangerously close to your eye. “I said shut. The fuck. Up.” Crap. You must have said the wrong thing somewhere in there, something to tip him to the opposite edge that you wanted him on. His face is a mask of unmitigated anger, all creep-happy pretenses gone for a singular, electric moment as blood trickles from the cut and down your cheek.

s̐́ͮh̄ǒwͥ hͩ̽̈̈ĭ̂̊̂̑̅mͬͯ ͐ͥ̅̓̎s͋̿̽̄́h͑ͪͧͯ̾oͦ̈́wͯ̌̑ͫ͆ ͗͑̔̇h̐͛ͩ̄̆ͥim͛ͫ ̆̚s̽̏h͆o͒̆ͤ̌ͥ̇́w͑̐̾ ̊͌ͩ̽h̄͊̽ͬ̾i̍ͫm̐̿͌̈ͪͩ̒

He takes another step closer.

m̅͋͑͐̒ͩͨ̅ͯȁ̂͂̀ͨ̀kͯͤ̔͆̓ͯ̀̅̏e̐ͩ͑̑̃ͥ̒͐ ͗̇h̋ͩ̂ͫỉ͒̆͒̽̾̽̔͊mͬͧ̈́ ̅ͣ͒̋̈́̿p̽͛́͋̔aͣ̌̌y̏͊ͬ̽ͬ̆̏ͧ ͑̀̎̎͂́̐̀m̏͌̑̀̃̓̆a͛͛ͭ̔k̿̄ͩ͒͑ͧͫ̚eͯ̉ͥ͆̈́̔̊̏ ͧͦ̾̄ͤhͦ͋ͪ̂̈i͐̑̓̈mͤ̊ͦ̾̉ ͧ͋̊͒ͮͯsͥ̈́ͩ̄ͭ̑̏͒c͆̃̎ͯͦ̋r̋̍e͌͋̈ͫ̈̓̑a̿͗̈ͩ̿ͤ͒͑mͭ̑̉ͯ͊̀ͧͥ͆ ͆͗ͬ̅͌ͬͭm̅̎̀ȃ̏̓ͭ̏K͂ͬ̓ͧͨeͤͬ̈́ͮ̋ ̃ͬ͐̍͊͂hͭͯ̃ͫ̆i͊ͧm̒ͭ̅͂ ̏͐̈́ͥ̀̔ͯb̃͒͂ͨ̇lͪ̿ͮe̋ͣe̽͗ͯd̋͑ͯͤ

He smiles, then, just smiles and smiles and smiles, wide and friendly and kind. Dread drops through the pit of your stomach and solidifies, as if you’d just eaten some bad take-out from that sketchy Japanese joint down the block because you felt like being adventurous and you’d only really gotten it for the ironic instagram pictures, but then it’d sat there looking all sad and you couldn’t just _throw it away_ , Bro didn’t raise you to waste food like that so you’d plugged your nose and swallowed it all and now you’re about to pay for it, groaning pathetically over the lid of the toilet, Bro calling you a dumbass from down the hall. It’s a pretty good metaphor, actually, except throwing up won’t make you feel better and Bro won’t be waiting for you with a glass of applejuice after, either.

“I know how I’ll _kiiill_ you,” Karkat singsongs, and when he giggles your mind is brought back to the first afternoon you brought him to your apartment and he almost lost his mind to laughter.. The sound of the last few drops of blood falling to the floor is a split-second rain as he drops his control on them. He steps forward, close enough now that if he wanted to he could just reach out and push… 

The flow of blood from the cut by your eye has in this time creeped down to a slow ooze, the platelets in your blood already almost finished with their job of clotting it up. Until, at least, it starts flowing again, dripping down your neck and soaking into the fabric of your shirt. It just keeps going and going, like a stream of red liquid tears, and Karkat laughs.

You realize, with a distant sort of clarity, how he plans to kill you and why. There will be no heroic battle, no brave fight to the death or terrifying fall to the ground far below. You are going to bleed to death from a shallow cut no longer than the tip to the first joint of your thumb, slowly and uneventfully. There will be no honor in it.

You can see the fear in his eyes.

“Wanna kiss?” you blurt out.

He blinks, smile frozen on his face. “What.”

“Do you want to make out?” No stopping to think, no second-guessing, just go for it. You take a step forward. He makes no move to stop you. No backing out, you are Dave Fucking Strider and you are Doing This. No better time to confess to the guy you’ve been super secretly crushing on then while he’s trying to kill you, right? “‘Cause you know, there’s this game of tonsil hockey that I’ve been meaning to play out and God damn if haven’t wanted to with you.” You step just a tiny bit closer, just inches apart now, and you can still feel the flow of blood down your cheek. The shadow hisses something angrily but your heart is too loud in your ears for you to understand it, and if you can hear it that must mean Karkat can, too. His red eyes burn into yours and you feel vulnerable and stripped bare without your shades. You think that’s probably why he made you take them off in the first place.

You lean in, just a little bit, enough to just barely begin to feel Karkat’s breath as he breathes out, still smiling, still smiling - and it’s cheesy as hell but in that moment something changes, something _clicks_ ; the flow of time stretches out around you into an endless sphere, an unending cycle that slows everything down into infinites and you have never been so sure of something in your entire life: that everything you have ever done, everything you’ve ever felt and thought and said and seen and every split-second decision you’ve ever made has led you to this specific point, so that you could be here in this one tiny universe in this little pocket of time and everything is as it should be and everything has always _been_ , and you have never felt such a deep, profound level of fulfillment in your entire life.

The feeling is broken when Karkat Vantas leans back to punch you in the face.

“I,” he says very calmly, while you gently dab at a freshly gushing nose and start to wonder if maybe you should just jump and save yourself a couple hours of torture, “Am so done with this bullshit.” 

But the pain that you expect when he lifts both hands skyward as if in rapture never comes. The flow of blood that spills out of his nose and ears starts just before the unearthly screeching - and you’re not kidding when you say “unearthly”; it’s like the sound isn’t physically possible by the laws bound to this universe, so instead of sound you’re faced with the sensation of something reaching very gently all around you and very tenderly shoving shards of obsidian deep into your brain. Karkat keeps going through it all, though, hands shaking as they are and a worrying amount of blood still pouring over his lips. Jaw looking clenched hard enough to chip a tooth, he closes his fists as if they’re struggling against actual resistance. Recalling what you’d felt before when you’d been rewinding the shadow’s time, as if you were physically yanking something too huge to comprehend into so much small space; you wouldn’t be surprised if he is.

After a moment where if the shriek had an actual pitch it would have risen high enough to shatter wine glasses across the entire country, Karkat finally manages to close his fists. It’s pretty uneventful, actually; no huge explosion (which would have sucked anyway because oh wow you’re right next to it), no magical effects like a “sudden wave of power” or anything anime like that. No dramatic sprays of Godblood splattering across your face. One second it’s there, and the next it’s not.

“I am just-” Karkat says, voice still calm, which is a bit disconcerting. He doesn’t look like he’s freaking out, which is also a bit disconcerting, but he killed the thing so hey, he must be relatively alright. “Done. I am _done_.”

And oh shit yeah, you spoke waaay too soon; Karkat’s eyes roll back into his head and he falls forward. You manage to catch him just before he hits the floor of the roof, and haaaa he’s unconscious in your arms and you must’ve lost a bit more blood than you thought because the roof wobbles uncertainly before settling down into its proper place again. Good roof, best floor.

“Shit,” you breathe out under your breath. You then realize that’s kind of stupid, seeing as how you’re alone. “Shit!” Okay, okay, fuck, what are you supposed to do who even knows what the fuck is wrong with this kid now he might even have a brain hemorrhage from all the blood going down his nose and out of his ears, aren’t you supposed to die instantly from something like - no okay he’s still got a pulse, you need to stop freaking yourself out. Stop. Breathe. 

You take in a deep breath, watching carefully for the rise and fall of Karkat’s chest as you do.

Okay. Run it through. What are your options, here?

Your immediate bet would be to go to the hospital, but that would lead to a bunch of questions you don’t really know how to answer and it really might not be worth it if it turns out there’s nothing more wrong with him than some… _minor_ bleeding. On the other hand, if you just leave him alone and there _is_ something wrong with him, there is a very big possibility he will die and you don’t think you can live with that. You don’t see how something _can’t_ be major wrong with him, seeing how his brain got full-on hijacked by some ancient, malevolent power for ten minutes. You do not want to know how fucked up his brain might be right now.

… Does a brain hemorrhage kill you immediately? Fffffff.

Bro’s still not home. Rose is currently unconscious but after a quick check you find that her skin is back to its regular pale cream and her eyes are normal when you pull her lids back, so you just cut her ropes and leave here there; you have bigger things to worry about than her catching a cold. If she gets pissed then she can fucking deal with it. Your nose is still leaking steadily, but the cut by your eye has at least finally stopped.

 _Karkat’s going to kill me,_ you think as you pick him up bridal style, beginning the long trek down the stairs and onto the streets, lightly jogging the couple of blocks to his house.

_Karkat can suck it._

\- -

So. Stalling. 

…..

That is so not a thing you are doing right now.

Karkat is a surprisingly light weight in your arms, like seriously, this kid needs to eat way more often - but that said, he’s still a dead fucking weight and you are dead fucking tired after running with his unconscious ass. Losing blood isn’t helping you at all, much, either.

You know you need to get Karkat, and possibly yourself, attention - and fast. But you keep on hearing Kardad’s words in your head. If my son gets hurt while he’s with you I’ll fuck you up, basically.

Oh, this? Haha, no, that is not your son folded up all cozy and unconscious in my arms with blood everywhere, most of it his, no-siree-bob. 

Youuu are so screwed. No matter what way you look at this.

You spend two minutes and twenty-three seconds being a little chicken shit in front of his front door before you just decide to take the plunge. You adjust your grip on Karkat to knock on the door sharply, twice, before moving it back. You realize you’re holding your breath and then do nothing about it because - as previously stated - you are a little chicken shit.

The door opens. A very tired-looking Mr Vantas opens the door and stares at you uncomprehendingly for exactly two point twenty-two seconds.

“Well, holy shit.” And that… was not Mr Vantas. You look a little deeper into the house to see a guy with short-cropped brunette hair and a thin face peering around the wall that’s in front of what you think is the kitchen. Oh, okay, it’s not like this could’ve gotten any more awkward or anything.

“...Okay,” you say after another second of silence, turning back to Mr Vantas. “So I promise I’ll let you wreck my shit later but r-” Your nose then decides to bleed a little more from the talking, and blood hits the back of your throat, making you gag. You spend the next few seconds coughing up red and really just hating your life. “-but right now Karkat could really use some help and there was nowhere else-”

Mr Vantas snaps out of it at the sound of his son’s name, and quickly bends over to scoop Karkat out of your arms. You blink after him as he disappears back into the house without a word. Should you…. 

Why the fuck not.

You kick your shoes off at the front door, figuring it’s the least you can do at this point, and step inside, closing the door behind you. You manage to take a couple of steps before your sense of balance fucks up again and you do a wobbly half-step into a conveniently-placed kitchen table chair. How fortunate. Two drops of blood plop onto the brown wood.

“Ah, shit…” You wipe at them with a thumb, and then contemplate it thoughtfully for a moment before you shrug and wipe it on your already blood-stained shirt. You’re never getting this one back.

You look up when you see white move into the corner of your vision.

“Danks,” you say as you press the rag to your nose, but the strange guy only nods and stares at you like you just walked in with the unconscious body of his (possibly) friend’s son and covered with blood.

Oh wait.

This close, you get a better look at him, and you realize his eyes are two different colors: one brown, one blue. Huh. Heterochromia. This reminds you that you still, in fact, have your own shades off and you’ve just been giving everyone your demon eyes full blast, so you unfold them from the vee of your shirt and slip them back on.

Four minutes and thirteen seconds of awkward silence. At least your nose has stopped bleeding. Again.

You wonder how Karkat’s doing.

“Whelp.” You stand up, and the guy stops tapping the table with his finger-nail to look up at you. He was pretty accurate, actually, two taps every second exactly. Maybe he plays an instrument. “Nice talkin’ to ya.” You think he might’ve tried to make some form of protest as you made your way up the stairs, but you’re long out of his reach before he can try doing anything about it.

You only pause for a few seconds when you reach the top. You wouldn’t call it _catching your breath_ as much as you’re just enjoying the scenery. Of the hallway. Monotonous gray walls that are so not boring at all and oh hey is that a picture?

You pad closer, the carpet fuzzing up between your toes, and lift your shades up just a bit so you can see the colors. Mr Vantas is there, smiling broadly with his arm thrown over a woman’s shoulder. She’s really pretty, with long, curly black hair, her eyes pinched in a smile so wide it stretches literally from ear to ear. Karkat looks a lot younger here - definitely around toddler age - pretty much sitting on both of their shoulders, hugging their heads to his sides. His smile is a small, shy thing, teeth barely showing and his eyes peeking out from under a mess of hair. 

He looks… happy.

You hear the sound of a door opening down the hall and are down the stairs in just under two seconds - not your best time, but still pretty good, under the circumstances. Stranger Danger is standing almost awkwardly in the living room, as if he’d spent that whole time trying to figure out if he should go up and get you or if he should just let Karkat’s dad deal with it. You wouldn’t really be surprised. He doesn’t hear you approaching, if the way he jumps slightly when you greet him is anything to go by.

“Yo.” He turns around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Are you a friend of Karkat’s dad or something?”

“Are you the friend he’s been telling me about all evening?” He retorts, and damn this guy has almost _Bro_ levels of sass, mark you down as impressed.

“Touché,” you concede, and are greeted with another faceful of refreshing, awkward silence.

“So,” you say after around eight seconds. “How was the drive down?”

“Why do you think I drove down here?” If his gaze wasn’t hard enough on you before it definitely cools down to about _potential threat_ , his feet shifting just enough so he can move mast if he needs to. His stance is pretty good, but it could use some work. But really - wow, paranoid much?

“Geeze, chill man, I’m not going to start pulling knives on you or anything.” Whoops, fuck, if anything that just made him even more suspicious because that is _not_ something a regular person would usually notice, way to assure him you’re not some government spook or something. “This isn’t exactly a huge town, okay? And I’m pretty sure I would have noticed your car around here before, it’s at least a half-hour drive if I haven’t seen it before.” His car is this really weird mustard-yellow, something that you definitely do not see outside of custom paint jobs. It’s not very hard to miss.

Besides, the crows also described all of the people you had even the slightest chance of running into, and Socially Inept Flightless Bird wasn’t on the list even after you started really hanging out with Karkat. He would have to live outside of their usual territory, then.

“Oh.” He doesn’t exactly go back to normal, but some of the wary caution leaks out of him in tense lines. “It’s around forty-five minutes out, actually.”

“Ah,” you nod. Holy shit has making small talk always been this awkward? Mark you down for not talking to people and not having to deal with this shit, seriously. “So do you have a name, or do I have to just keep calling you different adjectives in my head?”

“Mituna Captor,” he says immediately, and the abrupt willingness of it catches you off your guard for a second.

“Dave Strider,” you return. “Although I guess you already-”

“I already knew that.”

“-knew that, yeah.”

What is it with this guy and awkward silences though, he’s eating up all of yours, you must be down into the _negatives_ by now. Thankfully Mr Vantas starts trudging down the stairs before it can get any worse.

You rewind that thought.

You watch as Mr Vantas walks down the stairs like a man who just stared death in the face and barely beat it down by the skin of his hands, and contemplate on whether it would be considered impolite to abscond the fuck out of this place.

He doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“I appreciate you bringing Karkat back here.” There are black circles etched in the skin underneath his eyes, and he sounds almost as tired as he looks. “But if you think you can leave here without answering my questions then you’re badly mistaken.”

“Fucking hell.” You’re not even trying to play it cool anymore as you run your fingers through your hair; if there’s any doubt left that you are the complete opposite of cool at the moment, it’s currently stained with red and abandoned on the kitchen table. “You know why I can’t do that.”

“If it’s Karkat you’re worried about,” he says, “I’ll deal with him if he wakes up. And that’s a serious _if_ -” His voice cracks on the word, and half of your resolve crumbles into little broken-heart-shaped bits right there. “-so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Sorry.” It’s not too hard to make your voice sincere, seeing as how you really are sorry. “I really, really am, alright? But just trust me when I say it’s really better if we wait until Karkat can chip in on this, okay?”

It’s not really surprising when it turns out that you’ve said the wrong thing yet again. You’re going for a new streak.

“I’m sick and tired of all these damn secrets in this house!” Mr Vantas swings a clenched fist and slams the side of it against the wall. Every movement as he brings his hand up to rub at an eye with his palm tells of (barely restrained) anger, and suddenly there’s no other way to describe him other than completely ragged around the edges. It’s such a sudden contrast to how you’re used to seeing him - calm, reasonable; something strikes you as being off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Captor’s brows are furrowed with concern, and he takes a small step forward.

“I can’t- I’m fine,” Mr Vantas says, a hand still covering one eye and the other pinched shut. “Just be quiet for a minute.”

And then, after twelve tense seconds of no-one speaking:

“Will someone _please_ shut that radio off!”

The hair on the back of your neck pricks up because

the house is perfectly silent, echoing only the sound breathing.

“Kankri?”

“Captor,” you say, calmly, fighting to keep your voice even against the bile rising up in your throat. “I want you to step back very, very slowly.” Mr Vantas is muttering something to himself quietly enough that you can’t hear, palm of his hand grounding agitatedly into his eye.

“I don’t understand,” Mr Captor says, and indeed he does sound very perplexed. Mr Vantas’ voice picks up slightly, just enough for you to make out what he’s saying - strings of ‘ _no_ ’s, ‘ _shut up, shut up!_ ’s, and ‘ _you’re lying, lying, lies_ ’. Mr Captor takes the step back. And then a few more. You join him.

“Well, prepare to be even more confused, because we’re screwed,” you say, which is a major understatement but that’s not really important at the moment.

Mr Vantas cuts off suddenly with a pained choking noise, his whole body twitching, and then falls still.

“Kankri-” Captor goes after a couple seconds, beginning to reach his hand out before you can stop him. “Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Mr Vantas speaks like a blind man who’s just seen the light of the sun again for the first time.

Mr Captor yanks his hand back like he’s been burned.

How smart of him.

“Everything is _beautiful_.” 

Then Mr Vantas drops his hand from his face and looks up, smiling the smile of the starving being brought a Thanksgiving feast and being told to eat their fill. That’s not really the part that has your attention though.

His eyes have gone from Socially Acceptable Brown to a striking red, redder than Karkat’s - not as bright as your own, but cutting it pretty damn close. You catch the faintest whiff of brine and seawater, and even through your shades you can already see the faintest tendril of smoke wreathing through his hair.

Mr Captor sucks in a sharp breath.

Basically? All hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, plot reveals! :D now we finally know what's been eating up that kid! (also dave honey you've been watching too many of karkat's movies, go watch a cage flick with john or something)
> 
> Everything always seems to fall into twos when Mr Captor is around *wink* Where did you come from, Mr Captor? You were not supposed to be in this story at all!!
> 
> BQ wasn't kidding when she said _immediately_ , bro.
> 
> I know, I know! I'm sorry to leave you guys on another cliffhanger (except not really) but. if this chapter got any longer i'd probably do... something really drastic. At least we made some progress in the romance department, right! Although Karkat's reaction wasn't really very promising :/
> 
> *rolls in kudos while making unintelligible thank you noises*


	12. A FUcking Respite

It’s probably pretty obvious when you say that things aren't going so great right now. All you can think is that FB wasn't kidding when she said _immediately_.

You glance up the stairs that Mr Vantas is standing in front of, before disregarding that train of thought entirely. Even if you did manage to get past him, the chances of you getting Karkat to wake up are too slim for it to be a good plan, and you aren't very eager to put Mr Vantas at your back, either.

The only question is what the fuck are you going to do now. You search your brain, hoping that you’ll come up with a plan within the next few seconds.

You do, but the number of them that don’t end with either you or Mr Captor splattered against the wall total up to about zero, so. You are so fucked.

“We are so fucked,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s like all of my shitty karma is catching up to me at once. Is this what I get for using one of Egbert’s pranks on the kids at my old school? I promise I’ll be good, just let us all get out of this in one piece for once, is that too much to ask?” You don’t really want to, years of ingrained habit be damned, but you reach up to take off your shades and clip them back onto the neck of your shirt. All the better to see you with, my dear.

The shadow isn't quite physical, yet. You can just barely see the hazy outlines of it, and if it has a voice it’s soft enough that you can’t hear it. But just because it doesn't _seem_ dangerous doesn't mean it isn't. You keep your guard up.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on here,” Mr Captor hisses under his breath. Not like it will keep Mr Vantas from hearing it, seeing as how he’s only a couple feet away. You would fix that, but there’s a tense feeling in the air of the sort that means any forward/backward movement will end with you getting pounced on. And bloodshed.

Probably yours.

So, yeah. Not moving would probably be a good idea.

“It’s a bit complicated,” you say at normal volume, not taking your eyes off of Mr Vantas. “I’ll just give you the cliff notes. Basically your friend is being possessed by an embodiment of the Void and he’ll probably start trying to kill us in a couple of minutes. I mean, seriously, this day just keeps on getting better and better.”

“Right,” Mr Captor says flatly. It’s the type of tone someone would use while they have their “you’re fucking crazy” face on, but you don’t turn to check. Mr Vantas is really starting to creep you out, what with the smiling and the red eyes. You wonder if Mr Captor can see the shadow. Probably not. “And what do you suggest we do?” Hmm, how to tell him that there’s nothing you _can_ do, that’s the question.

“Well,” Mr Vantas chimes in, and you get the feeling you’re not going to like what he’s going to say, “You could always join me.”

“So joke.” Keep him talking, keep him distracted, the longer the more chances you have of not dying, piece of cake. “Much funny. Wow. Why didn’t you ask me sooner, I’ve been wanting to lose control of my body and will to a shadow monster for my whole life. That was sarcasm by the way, please don’t take that as an invitation.” Shit, you really hope you didn’t just accidentally give him permission to brainwash you via shitty joke. God dammit.

“Oh, Dave, it’s alright,” Mr Vantas says, almost laughingly. “There’s no need to be _afraid_.” Not too strange a comment, considering the circumstances, but there’s something about the way he said it… You feel like you’re missing something.

“No.” Wow, okay, that’s a bit too much horror in Mr Captor’s voice in proportion to what Mr Vantas just said. You do actually glance at him this time and yep, that is definitely horror written all over his face. “No no no, please, Kankri, stop it.”

“Why should I?” Mr Vantas asks, taking a step closer. It’s not a big one, but you really, really don’t like it. “You used to be brilliant, Mituna.”

“Kankri, _please_ -”

“You were powerful in every sense of the word. And look at you now, a single father with a son who’s already surpassed you, working a job you hate because you’re afraid of change. You’re worthless compared to what you once were.” Mr Vantas smiles. It’s not a very nice smile. “You can’t even lift a pebble, now, can you?”

What was that? A high pitched whistling sound as this whole thing flies straight over your head. You glance between them, trying to figure this shit out. Mr Vantas looks, well - smug is really the only way you can describe it. Mr Captor is frozen in place, shock and hurt and anger clouding his face.

“How _dare_ you,” Mr Captor seethes, and for a second it almost looks like there are tiny flickers of light sparking around his face. But they’re gone in a blink of an eye, so you chalk it up to bloodloss. “You’ve gone too far. If this is what seeing again has done to you then you can forget it.”

“You say that, and yet you’re so jealous.”

“I am _not_ -”

“ _Liar_.”

Mr Captor flinches.

“Just submit, and I can give you back everything you've lost. We can be happy again.”

There’s a long, strained thirty seconds of silence as they stare each other down, your presence seemingly forgotten. The thing you know you’re missing niggles insistently at the back of your mind. Slowly, not trying to rush it, as gently as you possibly can, you nudge all of the pieces of the conversation together as if they’re nothing more than puzzle-pieces. A plus B can only equal the sum of their parts, after all, and you know you almost have it now...

_You two ain't’t the only ones with a Title, kids._

Shiiiiiiiiit.

So much drama. All the drama. It just seems to follow you everywhere. It can’t just be you and your friend with the secret power anime lives, _no_ , there has to be hidden secrets and familial revelations. Just you watch, soon it’ll turn out that _no one_ is free from this shit. It’ll be like a Secret Power party bonanza, wouldn't that be amazing. But for that to happen everyone here needs to survive and this silence is getting tense in the I’ll-fuck-you-up type of way really quickly so now would probably be the time for you to step in.

“Would you guys shut it the fuck down? I’m trying to get some sleep here.”

Oh yes Karkles perfect timing.

You look up at him where he stands at the top of the stairs. A fresh line of blood has drawn itself out of his nose, but thankfully it looks like it’s already stopped. He looks down at all of you with a ridiculously impassive expression on his face. “Hey Uncle Captor.”

“Uh, hi,” Mr Captor returns weakly, and Karkat begins stepping down the stairs. You tense as he gets closer to Mr Vantas, ready to flashstep at the slightest move, but Karkat just looks him over once and then brushes past him to stand next to you.

Mr Vantas isn’t smiling anymore. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

“Back with the living, Karkles?” He makes a noncommittal sort of noise.

“Probably shouldn’t be,” he says, which you agree with. “But it’s not like I could sleep while you guys are making such a fucking racket.”

“Every cloud has a silver lining.”

“Are you sure? Because I can’t really think of any good consequences that can come out of my dad being brainfucked by one of these assholes.”

“You can bond over your mutual shadow possessions. It will be beautiful, and there will be tears.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just do your shit already so we can get this over with.”

“So pushy,” you say, but you breathe out lightly in relief. Knowing you can die any second is stressful as fuck, and now that Karkat is awake you can get this show on the road. Also, a nap sounds really nice right now.

You don’t bother bringing your hands up this time, partly because you don’t need to and partly because you’re afraid that if you do Mr Vantas will do something none of you will like. You turn back the hands of the clock in your head, back, back, _back_ …

It’s not as hard as the job on Rose was, probably because this one hasn't been leaching power off of her her whole life, but it’s still difficult. And, cue the nosebleed. You clamp down hard on your center - which is a weird way of explaining it, but hey, it works - to keep your soul from fucking off in different directions, and wind the clock back even farther.

The shadow screams, but not very loudly, and both Vantases sway only lightly on their feet. There is a low pop, and voilà, instant ex-shadow-now-physical abomination. 

“Holy shit!” Mr Captor jumps another step back. You can’t help but smirk a little bit.

“I warned you,bro.” Hell yes, shitty references for the win. “I told you, dawg.”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Oh, spare me.” And then, with even less fanfare than last time, the shadow is gone.

Mr Vantas stands there a moment, looking dazed and confused and monster-free, before he sort of just. Falls on his ass.

“Oh fuck.” Mr Captor rushes forward, kneeling down to help Mr Vantas sit back up.

“What… What was that? What happened?” He asks, clutching at his head, his eyes wide and sounding just _lost_. You know you don’t have all the details as to what he and Mr Captor were talking about, but you have a bit of an idea and shit, you really don’t want to deal with this right now. Too many sads, you’ve had enough, but you guess it’s your job to explain anyway.

Karkat beats you to it, though.

“Well, first of all, I killed Mom,” he says almost tonelessly, his eyes and face completely blank. Oh holy shit he really just came out and said that right now, didn’t he. You take the timing thing back. Waaaaay back. “And also I can do this thing with blood. Say hi, Dave.” He twirls a finger in a tight circle and your arm moves up of its own accord, waving at the stunned adults. You take the opportunity to flip Karkat off. “Dave fucks with time. It’s kind of cool.”

“Uhh,” Mr Captor says. Ten out of ten for eloquence. Mr Vantas’ irises look like they’re slowly getting back to normal, which is made all the easier to see with his eyes as shock-wide as they are right now.

“I’m about to pass out,” Karkat states matter-of-factly, “And one of you assholes better catch me.” You take a step forward, holding out your arms behind him readily.

“Madam.”

“My hero,” he deadpans, and promptly falls backward into your waiting arms. You take a second to shift him around so that he won’t fall the second you move, and then stand.

“Welp,” you say. “I’m gonna let you guys sort your shit out. Yeah.” You back up a couple steps toward the stairs. “Sorry about…all that.” And up the stairs you go, leaving the adults to deal with the pile of awkward and emotions that they’re going to have to deal with. You hope they don’t end up getting in a fight or something, that would suck. You nudge the door to Karkat’s room open with a foot and lay him back down in his bed, and then just sort of. Stand there for a moment.

Fuck you’re exhausted. Yeah, there is so no way you’re walking all the way back to your apartment. 

You take your shades out from where they’re still on the neck of your shirt, but don’t bother with putting them back on. Instead, you fold them and put them on the edge of Karkat’s desk where they won’t get stepped on and grab one of the extra pillows on Karkat’s bed, throwing it down on the floor and flopping quickly after it. You lay there for exactly two seconds before you sigh and stand up again, shutting off the light and then closing the door. You don’t want to send the wrong signals but you’re used to sleeping with the door closed and you just really don’t give a fuck about anything else right now.

You listen to the sound of Karkat breathing in and out as you settle back down, the fabric of the pillow cool against your face and the solid wood of the bed frame firm against your spine. Karkat’s room is one of the ones that gets completely pitch black, and you blink a few times at the illusion of being in an endless space. But you really are tired, and you don’t last long before your eyes close and you begin to drift…

11:32:58…

11:32:59…

11:33:00... 

11:33:01…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay we didn't leave off on a cliffhanger this time! :D and since winter break is finally here it looks like i'll finally be able to start _writing_ again. As always, please excuse the botched pacing xD
> 
> p.s. if our precious karkles seems a bit off, well.. that guy isn't exactly in his right head-space right now :/


	13. A FUcking Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers sorry this took forever*

...8:20:33…

...8:20:34…

8:20:35…

8:20:36.

Damn. Only nine hours, one minute and seven seconds. But you’re up now, and you know from experience that once you’re up it’s a bitch to get back to sleep so you might as well just call it a night. You stretch as you sit up, peering over the bed at the same time that you grab at your glasses with a passing hand and slip them back on. So smooth. Looking down, though. Aw man, you so didn’t mean to bloodstain Karkat’s pillow. He’s still asleep, twisted up in his blankets, so you use your prowess and rad skillz to sneak quietly out of the room, pillow in hand. You think you remember seeing a bathroom here before…

Success. You quietly open the door just a little ways down the hall to a bathroom, and step in before closing the door behind you. You do a little hop while hissing under your breath because hello there cold tile, nice to meet you, and then take a peek at your reflection.

You are a mess. And not even a hot mess, just a regular, plain old, boring, dirty, bloody mess. Children would cry if they saw you. Horror movie screams would play in the distance as the camera zoomed in dramatically on your face, followed by a shocked gasp from the audience as they looked on in a mix of disgust and horror, afraid and yet unable to look away.

Okay, it’s not really that bad, but there’s blood crusted on your face and around your mouth from the multiple nosebleeds and some even stained into your hair, not to mention a nice cakey spot where blood pooled in your collarbone from the cut on your neck. You resign yourself to taking your shades off once again and dampen a wad of toilet paper with water from the sink. And then another one. And then a few more. By the time you’re done, a total of ten handfuls of pink-stained toilet paper sit dejectedly in the wastebin. Not as good as an actual shower would get you, but at least nobody will be calling the cops on you if you’re seen in public.

You “Hm.” at the pillow, a rusty red-brown spot glaring back at you, and scratch at it disheartenedly with the nail of a thumb before you get an idea. Placing the pillow on lid of the toilet, you begin opening and closing the doors of every drawer you can see. Rummaging through the cabinet under the sink, you finally find your prize. You soak the corner of another wad of toilet paper with liquid from the black bottle, and start dabbing at the pillow with it. In a couple minutes’ time, it looks as good as new.

Ah, the wonders of hydrogen peroxide. But there are some things that even it can not handle, and you frown at the stained neck of your shirt.

You stick your head out the door and turn it side to side to check if the coast is clear after you make sure the bathroom is just as clean as when you found it, and flashstep back to Karkat’s room. He’s still out like a light. You wonder if you should wake him up or let him be. Either way, you really need to be heading back to-

-Bro _oh shit._

You smack yourself in the forehead with the palm of a hand. You are a fucking idiot, how could you forget to let Bro know you were staying over here? You are getting such an ass-kicking when you get back. It will be the strifest strife to ever strife and there will be only pain. You need to get ahold of him before he tears this whole fucking city apart if he hasn’t already, but you left your phone back at the apartment in your rush to get over here. Only one thing left to do now.

You swing out the chair under Karkat’s desk and sit in it while you move the mouse over the desk, and lower the brightness on the screen as the computer whirrs back to life. You open pesterchum.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \-- 

CG: hey bro  
CG: wait hold up

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is now turntechGodhead [TG] \-- 

TG: ok thats better  
TG: bro are you there  
TG: bro  
TG: bro  
TG: bro  
TG: bro  
TG: answer me god dammit  
TG: thats it young man we need to get you a phone  
TG: who knows what trouble you could be getting up to  
TG: what if theres an emergency  
TG: ...  
TG: .....  
TG: alright fine fuck this

You exit out of the chat and move to click -

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

-nevermind.

TT: Hello, Dave.  
TG: holy shit how did you do that  
TG: i was just about to message you  
TT: A lucky guess, I suppose.  
TG: hey how are you feeling?  
TG: you seemed fine when we left but you never know  
TT: I’m fine.  
TT: One might even go so far as to say that I’m great, in fact.  
TT: Positively fantastic.  
TG: ...  
TT: And I’m not even being sarcastic, either, as hard as that may be to believe. I know I’ve been prone to take such a tone often in the past, but I assure you that I am being completely sincere.  
TT: I owe you a great debt, Dave. Both to you and to Karkat. Mere words are not enough to describe the depth of my gratitude.  
TG: shit sis thats all i need  
TG: you dont need to do anything its chill  
TT: Regardless. If there is anything you can think of as satisfactory recompense I would be more than glad to provide it for you.  
TT: Thanks to you, last night was the first night I’ve slept without nightmares since before I can remember.  
TG: youre makin me tear up here  
TG: it wasnt a problem man dont even think about it  
TT: :)  
TG: alright so  
TG: i hate to ruin the moment but  
TG: is bro around  
TT: Ah, yes.  
TT: Our mutual parental unit is currently pacing the roof. I believe he is attempting to interpret what is left of the blood there to pinpoint your position, and I witnessed him earlier trying to bribe a crow to guide him to you “Snow White style”.  
TT: I do not believe it was impressed.  
TG: shit  
TT: Are you and Karkat alright? I am ashamed that it has taken me this long to ask you.  
TG: were fine nothing serious  
TT: I see. I’ll have to take your word for it until you get back from wherever it is you are. There is quite a lot of blood on that roof, Dave.  
TG: i know ok you can fret over me when i get back  
TG: can you just put bro on please before he starts threatening people  
TT: Since you asked so nicely.  
TT: One moment.

You’re left trying not to fidget in the chair for only ten seconds before the computer pings.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is now timaeusTestified [TT] \--

TT: Status report.  
TG: nice to see you too bro  
TT: Don’t give me any lip. Status report, now. And don’t even think of leaving anything out.  
TG: ugh fine  
TG: one cut a half inch below my right eye half an inch long another on the right side of my neck about an inch long neither of them deep enough to be worth mentioning and a bloody nose enough bloodloss to make me dizzy but nothing worse  
TT: And the kid?  
TG: nosebleed and earbleed probably from the eldritch abomination screaming into his brain so no physical cause  
TG: nothing long lasting for either of us bro were fine  
TT: There’s a lot of fucking blood on that roof, kid, you better not be lying to me.  
TG: dude freaky blood powers remember  
TT: ...Answer grudgingly accepted.  
TT: Now, where the fuck are you?  
TG: over at the vantas house  
TG: karkat passed the fuck out when we were done and you werent back yet and i got the feeling the hospital would be a bad idea so i took him here and i ended up crashing with him  
TG: hes sleeping like a baby except theres no smelly diaper and he doesnt wake up screaming to be fed every two hours  
TT: Do you need me to come get you?  
TG: please no  
TG: needless to say shit went down over here last night when i brought mr vantas his son looking the way we did   
TG: long story short he got his own little terror from the abyss and we had to deal with that so no offense but adding you to the equation of the aftermath ill probably have to deal with when i go downstairs probably isnt a good idea  
TT: None taken.  
TT: I expect a full run-through when you get your ass back over here.  
TG: yes sir ill be there in twenty minutes sir  
TT: At ease.  
TT: Hey, kid.  
TG: yeah  
TT: You did a good job.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

That… Okay, you can’t help but preen a little at that. Praise from Bro that isn’t translated to a pile of smuppets or also coupled with insult or criticism is just really fucking rare, so you know what? You deserve to preen. You will preen if you God damn please.

That just brings you back to your original problem though, you think as you exit out of the pesterchum window. Wake the precious Karbaby up now, or let him sleep? Under normal circumstances the answer would probably be “now”, but… There’s sort of the fact that you sort of just confessed your huge gay mancrush to him last night, and you know that the second he wakes up you’re going to have to talk.

About _feelings_.

All of that adds up to the obvious conclusion that you are just really not looking forward to that conversation. Knowing full well how childish it is, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and out into the hallway. Hopefully it’s early enough in the morning that no one else is awake yet, and peering discreetly over the landing of the stairs, you see… no one. Perfect. Making sure not to creak any of the stairs, you make your way down. You would say it’s lucky that there’s nobody down here, but you really don’t want to jinx your already shitty luck. 

You do feel kind of bad about leaving Karkat alone to deal with his dad by himself, but. Honestly, you think that you being there wouldn’t be very helpful. They just need to have a heart-to-heart, son-father talk. Shitty one-liners just don’t fit in that equation. Something like that should be personal.

Also, Mr Vantas secretly kind of terrifies you.

You slip on your shoes, opening and closing the front door quietly behind you, and start walking home.

(No children start screaming, but one chick does ask you if you’re cosplaying something. You tell her it’s an online webcomic about two seemingly normal dudes with badass superpowers who fight monsters in the dead of night, and you’re recreating the scene of the main hero going back home to heal after the Revelation arc because wow if that wasn’t some amazing character development. She nods thoughtfully, takes your picture, and then says she’ll check it out sometime! You barely manage to contain your shit-eating grin until you’re around the next corner and out of sight.)

_ _

You wake, head pounding, in your bed. Which wouldn’t be so worrying under normal circumstances, but the last thing you remember is seriously contemplating throwing Dave off the roof - or was it bleed him to death? - and you have no idea how you got from there to here and now you’re mildly freaking the fuck out.

From the light streaming through the window when you bolt up - shit too fast fucking head - it can’t be any later than early afternoon. You remember distantly that this is supposed to be a school day and then very much do not give a fuck. You spend the next ten minutes pacing back and forth in your room before it occurs to you that you might want to try fucking _contacting Dave, you stupid dipshit._

The clock on your computer reads 10:20, and you have to manually log in to your account because you’re logged out, for some reason. You then proceed to go from mildly freaking out in your room to mildly freaking out all over the screen.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: sTRIDER  
CG: ARE YOU  
CG: FuCK   
CG: ARE YOU OKAY?  
CG: ARE YOU ALIVE DID I KILL YOU??  
CG: DAVE PLEASE FUCKING ANSWER ME DID I KILL *ANYONE*???  
CG: THERE IS BLOOD SOAKED FUCK-DEEP INTO MY SHIRT AND I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH OF IT IS MINE  
CG: DAVE I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO MY HEAD IS KILLING ME AND I CAN’T REMEMBER IF I KILLED THE RIGHT THINGS OR NOT  
CG: PLEASE DON’T BE DEAD.  
TG: chill  
CG: OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK YOU’RE NOT DEAD.  
TG: of course not  
TG: do you honestly not remember what happened  
CG: IF I DID DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE SPAZZED ALL OVER THE FUCKING SCREEN?  
TG: point  
TG: okay basically you killed the monster things  
CG: REALLY?  
CG: WHY DO I NOT REMEMBER THAT?  
TG: well you sort of toppled unconscious right after so that might be it  
CG: HOW’S ROSE? I THINK I REMEMBER THREATENING TO BOIL HER EYES OUT OF HER SOCKETS AT ONE POINT. IT’S A BIT FUZZY.  
TG: shes fine  
TG: eyes perfectly in place  
TG: also the most outwardly happy ive seen her in years  
CG: FINALLY I MANAGE TO NOT FUCK SOMETHING UP FOR ONCE.  
CG: WAIT.  
CG: DID YOU SAY “THINGS” AS IN PLURAL?  
CG: AND IF I GOT KNOCKED OUT THEN HOW THE FUCK AM I BACK HERE?  
TG: well  
CG: STRIDER  
TG: the thing is  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?  
TG: you were giving out like seriously worrying amounts of blood back there   
TG: it was like some stigmata shit  
TG: to the point where i had some serious misgivings about the state of your future health  
TG: so i carried you to your house  
CG: HOLY SHIT.  
TG: do you remember anything after that  
CG: BUT YOU SAID I WAS UNCONSCIOUS.  
TG: yeah  
TG: and then you woke up  
TG: because we were making too much noise when your dad got possessed  
TG: so you came downstairs and we got rid of the shadow hence the plural  
TG: also your uncle captor was here but i think he left because his car wasnt in the driveway this morning  
TG: …  
TG: you still there  
CG: *******WHAT*******  
TG: yep still there  
CG: SO YOU ARE TELLING ME THAT BOTH OF THEM FUCKING **KNOW** ABOUT ME NOW?!  
TG: and me too  
CG: WELL GREAT IT’S NOT LIKE ANY OF THIS COULD GET ANY WORSE.  
TG: ...  
CG: NO.  
TG: bro  
CG: FUCK NO I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT IT GETS ANY WORSE  
TG: karkat  
CG: FUCK MY FUCKING LIFE!!!  
TG: are you sitting down  
CG: WHY  
TG: just sit your ass down please

You sit down fully in your chair, your hands shaking slightly on the keys as you type.

CG: OKAY FINE  
CG: MY ASS IS SAT.  
TG: alright you gotta promise me youre not gonna do anything drastic you got that  
CG: SURE  
CG: I DO SOLEMNLY SWEAR  
CG: GOOD ENOUGH?  
TG: yeah  
TG: okay  
TG: so do you prefer the bad news or the what the fuck news first   
CG: WILL IT MAKE A FUCKING DIFFERENCE?  
TG: no i guess not  
TG: ok  
TG: once you were done with your dads shadow you ended up telling everyone about your mom your powers and me all in practically the same sentence  
TG: and also i think your dad and captor have titles  
TG: ...  
TG: okay ive got to to stop doing those ellipsis theyre getting out of control  
TG: vantas  
TG: are you doing something drastic  
TG: you swore solemnly on it you wouldnt want to be an oathbreaker now would you  
TG: karkat  
CG: just give me a moment please.  
TG: ok

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is now an idle chum! -- 

You spend a large amount of time staring numbly at the screen.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is now an active chum! -- 

CG: what even is my life, that things must happen to me in this way?  
TG: yo you okay?  
CG: when am i ever okay  
CG: honestly, answer me that.  
CG: let’s face it strider  
CG: i lost my chance at ever being okay when i was born into this world as a fucking MUTANT FREAK.  
CG: OR WAS IT THE SECOND PAST ME DECIDED IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO KILL MY FUCKING MOM?  
CG: WHO KNOWS???  
CG: WHO  
CG: FUCKING  
CG: KNOWS.  
CG: I DESERVE WHATEVER JUDGEMENT FALLS ON ME WHEN I STEP OUT OF THIS ROOM.  
CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY HAVE TITLES?  
TG: they didnt exactly out and say it but they were throwing some pretty heavy shit at each other  
TG: i connected the dots and suddenly everything made vague sense  
TG: you should ask him about it.  
CG: YEAH. OKAY.  
TG: hey do you want me to come over or something  
CG: NO IT’S FINE.  
CG: I’LL DEAL WITH THIS BY MYSELF.  
CG: IF I GO MISSING DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME.  
TG: if thats what you want  
TG: but are you sure you dont remember anything else  
TG: like from before or  
CG: MAYBE? I MEAN I DON’T GET WHY THAT’S IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW BUT  
CG: I THINK  
CG: DID YOU  
CG: OH  
CG: OH MY GOD  
TG: and there it is  
TG: thats my cue to leave  
CG: I

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

You…

What.

You push the chair back from the desk. Yes, your mouth is hanging open like an idiot. No, you’re not going to close it anytime soon. Why? Because you distinctly remember Dave fucking Strider professing his undying love to you as you were trying to kill him. And then he tried to kiss you. You suppose one might say it says something about your character that that’s what managed to help you fight off the broodfester tongues and one would be totally right. Holy shit Dave effing Strider proposed his undying love and attempted to kiss you as you were trying to -

Wait. Hold on. How much of that was actually _sincere_ , though? You were trying to _kill_ him, you’re pretty sure that that would be a situation where someone might try to bribe their potential killer with a relationship. While it may have ended up for the better and you were, let you rephrase, trying to motherfucking _kill the shit out of him_ and he would have _died_ if he hadn’t done that, if it turns out that he doesn’t actually feel that way then you are going to kick his ass.

Because you may or may not have the hots for Dave Strider.

The next time you see him you’re going to have a talk.

About _feelings._

You can’t fucking wait.

-

Once you’re done contemplating the fact that Dave _might actually like you, in that way_ , the only thing left is the cold reality of the situation before you. You, according to Dave, told both your father and your uncle that you were responsible for your mother’s death and are a freak of nature, and don’t even remember doing so. You try to consider whether Dave could be lying to you as an attempt to bring you and your dad closer together, but you doubt it. He doesn’t strike you as someone to lie about something like that, at least. Then there’s the fact that he also suspects that they both have Titles? What the fuck is even _with_ that? How does something like that even _happen_? It all seems to add up to one giant pandemonious clusterfuck. 

But your dad knows, now. There’s no getting out of it, no denying it, no hoping you can manage to sneak past him and out the door before he notices this time. He was a wreck after mom died, you remember that much. And now he knows who’s to blame, so why wouldn’t he? Why the fuck wouldn’t he.

You can feel him, as you hesitate behind your door. He’s… not even moving, just sitting where the kitchen table should be. Waiting.

Well. Time to face the music, you suppose.

You know your dad hears the door of your room open when his heart rate picks up, and spend a few moments frozen in the doorway, eyes pressed close as you force yourself to breathe. What you do next is on autopilot. You don’t think you’d be able to do it otherwise.

>Walk down the stairs to meet your fate. 

When you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re struck with a really inappropriate feeling of deja vu, like you’ve stood in this exact spot recently. You get a flash of memory; your dad, made dark by shadows, a glimpse of a figure that could only be your uncle. Everything painted over with a strange feeling of disconnect. The words as they left your mouth.

You remember now. Joy.

You very carefully do not look your dad in the face as you stop a few feet from the table, unable to continue. Your hands are balled into fists at your sides and your own heart is thundering in your chest so that you wonder if he can’t hear it. The seconds tick by and you try not to but you end up counting them anyway, five seconds and you’re wondering if this is what Dave feels like, twelve and your nails are digging so hard into your palms that you’re surprised you’re not bleeding, seventeen and you are, twenty he finally speaks and something in you breaks.

“Karkat-” 

==> Hold on now, this is private. Let’s give them some space

What the hell. What are _you_ doing here?

==> Redirecting the path of this story, what does it look like

Like hell you are. This is not that style of fic! Shoo, scram, fuck off!

==> Not until you be Someone Else

Why would I do that?! We’re just about to get to the juicy parts here. I’ve been building up to this for practically thirty-five _thousand_ words! 

==> Exactly. Don’t you think it would be really frustrating for the Reader if you were to change the point of view right now

. . . 

Oooh, you’re evil. I like you. 

==> Thank you

Alright, then! It’s decided. Let’s

==> Be Dave

Disregarding the fact that this is not that style of fic, you are now Dave.

You’re perfectly aware that what you just did was really immature. Honestly, you went into that conversation ready to hash everything out with Karkat until everything was settled and done with, but the second he actually remembered, you chickened out and absconded. He probably wouldn’t have remembered for a while if you hadn’t pushed it, too. Shit, and now he’s going to be thinking about that while he’s talking to his dad. 

Your fingers twitch as you think about it, and you clamp your hands down on the desk to tell them to behave. Your first instinct is to go back to Karkat’s and back him up, but he was pretty clear when he said he wanted to do it alone. Plus, you don’t think your presence would be very helpful right now. The opposite of helpful, actually. So unhelpful the universe will collapse into a singularity of unhelpfulness, and after all you’ve done in the past twenty-four hours to keep the universe intact, well. That would be… ironic.

Doesn’t mean you’re going to do it. Nope. Hell fucking no, mission abort, cease fire, that would be a really stupid idea.

...You were just arguing over hypothetical situations in your head again, weren’t you? That would probably be sad if you weren’t doing it on purpose. To be ironic. Hell yes.

Your totally cool and ironic reverie is broken when you’re jerked back to attention by a ping from your computer. Huh.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

EB: hey dave!  
TG: well if it isnt my best bro eggderp mcmuffins  
TG: whats up arent you in class  
EB: shhhhhhhh!  
TG: yes sir my lips are sealed  
TG: wouldnt want you to get caught doing a no no by teacher  
TG: the indignity  
EB: exactly. i knew you would understand.  
TG: we are just  
TG: so in sync  
TG: finishing each others sentences  
TG: yes maam we have been married for thirty five years today its our anniversary can you take our picture  
TG: what do you mean were only seventeen it doesnt matter our broship spanned long before we were ever born  
EB: i am a scientist and i can tell you that what he says is a hundred percent true young lady.  
TG: did you hear him hes a scientist  
TG: now   
TG: take our picture  
TG: thank you  
EB: we will remember you forever.  
EB: until we get alzheimers.  
EB: then we’ll forget you.  
TG: the day in which we forget the great service you did for us by capturing this moment forever will truly be a sad one indeed  
TG: no dont run away its okay  
TG: john why did she run away  
EB: maybe she left the oven on.  
TG: that is indeed possible  
EB: oh shit! hold on teacher incoming.  
TG: holding  
EB: okay he’s gone.  
EB: hey dave?  
TG: yeah eb  
EB: are you okay?  
EB: i mean, rose was late today and then she said you were sick, so...

Oh shit, you forgot to think of a cover story. Thank you, Rose. You almost forgot she decided to go to school. 

TG: yeah man im fine  
TG: well as fine as a cool guy like me can be when hes sicker than a dog in texas heat  
TG: so im still really cool  
TG: nothing to worry your derpy little heart over  
EB: :P  
EB: i’ll just bring you some of my dad’s soup later and you’ll get right back up, watch!  
EB: it always works for me.  
EB: embrace the soup, dave. embrace it.

Oh. Oh man okay think.

TG: no dude thats not really a good idea  
TG: that is a really bad idea  
TG: because  
TG: how would i live with myself if i got you sick too  
EB: oh come on, i’ll be fine.  
EB: if it makes you feel better i’ll be really careful.  
EB: but i can’t just leave my best bro in need!

Uuugh you don’t like what you’re about to do. But it must be done.

TG: i appreciate it and all   
TG: no really i do its like sweet bro nectar being poured all over my heart strings  
TG: but i honestly just feel like crap and  
TG: shit/

Obligatory misspelled punctuation: check.

EB: dave?  
EB: are you ok??  
EB: dave what happened???

You wait a few seconds. Count them off in your head, tapping a finger against the desk; thirty-two should be long enough, right? Maybe a bit more. Fifty-eight longest Goddamned seconds of your life.

TG: sorry  
TG: breakfast just decided to reintroduce itself to my mouth  
TG: figured it was a great opportunity to show it to the toilet i know theyve been dying to get together  
TG: match made in heaven im tellin ya  
TG: that was not pleasant to say the least  
TG: you still there bro  
EB: yeah.  
EB: are you sure you don’t want me to come over?

Mission success. Too bad now you feel like a lying piece of shit.

TG: yeah im not a pretty sight right now  
TG: im sure rose will tell you all about my clammy sweaty face   
EB: well, i hope you get better. i love all my friends but it’s kind of quiet here without your constant mumbling.  
TG: hey  
EB: hehehe.  
EB: it’s kind of weird, though.  
TG: what is  
EB: karkat’s gone, too!

You already know that. But John doesn’t know you know, so.

TG: really  
TG: whats so weird about that so what if the guy wants a day off  
EB: karkat’s missed more school since you’ve gotten here than since the entire time i’ve known him.  
EB: and i’ve known him for almost as long as you!  
EB: i’m just worried about him too i guess.   
TG: its aight dude im sure hes fine  
TG: hasnt he only missed like two days though counting today  
TG: youre telling me hes only missed one day of school since youve known him  
TG: wow thats some dedication right there  
TG: give that guy a medal  
TG: wait dont they actually have medals for that   
TG: holy shit yeah they do  
TG: like at the end of the year these huge assemblies  
TG: medal for highest test scores  
TG: medal for fastest mile runner  
TG: a bit of paper saying you improved a lot this year  
TG: and then the medal for the kids that didnt miss any school  
TG: i wonder if he has like a secret stash of those  
TG: just hidden away somewhere  
TG: he probably does the punctual bastard  
TG: acting like its nbd  
TG: does he just have an immunity to being sick or what  
TG: or maybe hes one of those unfortunate souls who always get sick on vacations and never school  
TG: besides for today i guess  
TG: and that other time  
EB: dave?  
TG: yeah  
EB: is karkat avoiding me?

Oh. Oh no oh man no _why_. 

EB: we used to hang out like every day and stuff.  
EB: but now we barely even talk anymore outside of school.  
EB: and don’t get me wrong! i’m glad that you two are finally getting along now, like, really, i was worried for a second there that you guys wouldn’t warm up to each other.  
EB: but i just  
EB: i feel like i’m losing him as a friend i guess.  
EB: and i really don’t want that to happen. :(

God. God dammit. There are a few things you can’t deal with on this earth and a sad Egbert is at the top of that list. 

TG: no john   
TG: bro listen to me okay  
TG: i promise none of that is your fault you hear me  
TG: all of it is outside of your control its nothing youre doing you are scott free on this  
TG: you are the bestest bro in this entire universe   
TG: aliens be lining up from different galaxies for a chance to even glimpse your hot egbertain brobuns  
TG: you are just that good  
TG: and vantas knows it alright  
TG: ive just been helping him with some personal problems he didnt want to bother you with  
EB: really?  
TG: yeah really  
TG: just dont tell him i told you alright  
TG: keep it on the downlow  
TG: lock that shit up tighter than garland greene on that stupid plane  
EB: heh.  
EB: okay.  
EB: thanks dave. :)  
TG: naw son  
TG: no thanks needed  
TG: i just be telling the truth  
TG: cold hard facts that you cant dispute  
EB: please don’t start rapping.  
TG: you wound me  
EB: hehehehe  
EB: i have to go. bye dave!  
TG: peace

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

You lean back in your chair, sighing hard and rubbing at your eyes under your shades. Crisis fucking averted, a-fucking-men praise the Lord Jesus, hallelujah. Honestly, you hate lying to that kid, but if he came over to find out that you’re perfectly fine - especially now that you know he’s afraid Karkat doesn’t like him anymore - you are going to be in a lot of shit, friend-wise. You would really like to keep John in the dark about this whole thing, too. No revelations there, please. You just know that he’ll feel obligated to try to help you out, if he isn’t convinced you’re some weird nut, and you don’t want him to get hurt pulling some stupid stunt. And, yeah, you guess part of the reason he was so convinced Karkat is tired of him is because you’ve been monopolizing all of his time. This shit takes strategy, okay? But you can’t tell John that, see reasons previously listed, even if it would make some things so much easier, and especially now that you’ve given him a story, if it’s proved wrong in any way then he’s going to think you’re avoiding him too or some shit like that. Man, that would totally suck.

Gotta make sure your stories are straight.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TG: ok youre in class rn but i just wanted to say thanks for covering me for john  
TG: just make sure to wax poetic about my clammy sweaty face in particular  
TG: make it believable i know you have it in you  
TG: alright ill leave you to your maths or science or whatever it is youre doing right now

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

And just in case…

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

TG: hey i get youre probably busy atm but listen up  
TG: just lettin you know john thinks were both sick  
TG: so whatever you do dont let him think otherwise  
TG: this is very important okay  
TG: absolutely vital  
TG: okay  
TG: glad we got that covered  
TG: good luck with your dad

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

You exit out of the pesterchum window before there’s even a chance of Karkat coming back online. Okay. That’s one weight off your mind, now. And you’re not all bloody anymore, which is awesome. After Bro and Rose poked at you with surprisingly maternal undertones (you never thought you’d see the day _Bro_ acted motherly) you finally had a nice, hot shower, and damn does being clean feel good. Like, you can actually move without feeling the crusts of blood crackling all over the place. Amazing. There’s still someone you need to check in with, though.

You grab a bottle of apple juice from the kitchen on your way. The little cartons with the straws are convenient and all, but they are small, taunting evil things that are not fit for quenching real thirst. That’s why you make sure to always pick up the good bottles. You never know when you have time for a nice big bottle of AJ.

Actually, that was a trick question. (Question? Statement. Trick statement.) It’s _always_ time for a bottle of AJ, no matter how big or small. You will not leave any type of AJ feeling unloved. You like to think you are a very open and tolerant person. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, after all.

The roof looks almost exactly the same as you left it when you get up there. The chair you tied Rose to has been moved, though, probably put back in whatever corner Karkat found it in. But otherwise it serves as a perfect record of the fight. There’s the dried rain-splatters of your blood that Karkat dropped, over here is where he first got his bloody nose. And bloody ears. (That image of him smiling with blood all over his face is still freaking you out. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you start having nightmares about that.) Dangerously close to the roof’s edge is quite a bit of blood from when he decided bleeding you to death was a good idea. Shit, yeah, without any context this whole place looks close to a murder scene, no wonder Bro and Rose were so worried. It’s probably a good thing that none of your neighbors come up here. Wouldn’t that be a difficult thing to explain.

You don’t even have to whistle before you hear the familiar flapping of wings. FB must have been waiting for you. She settles down on the AC unit, her talons going _scritch-scritch_ against the dirty metal in a way that’s really fucking horrible for your ears. 

“So, what do you think?” you start. “Two in one night. Are we awesome or what?”

She doesn’t answer. She just sort of. Glares at you. Menacingly.

“...I’ll take that as a no.”

“ _The fight itself went as expected,_ ” she goes, and you wonder how she expected any of that and why she didn’t tell you, but she continues on before you can ask. “ _It was what you did after that was so foolish. I warned you on multiple occasions that once the first shadow was destroyed the others would go into action. You knew this and yet you still wandered about at night, completely defenseless, where any shadow could have taken you apart at its leisure!_ ” Oh. Yeah. You… guess she does have a point there. You didn’t even think of that. And she’s not even done yet. “ _Somehow you got it into your head that it was a good idea to take your fellow Knight to an area we had no way of knowing if it was safe, and it wasn’t. If he hadn’t regained consciousness when he did this whole universe would be in ruins._

“ _But… You are alive,_ ” she says, sounding reluctant. “ _As long as you both are still capable of destroying the last two shadows, I suppose it doesn’t matter. As long as you refrain from such acts of idiocy in the future.”_

“Acts of idiocy totally crossed off my list of things to do.”

“ _Good,_ ” she says. “ _Now, down to business. I have Slick watching the other shadow that’s still at the abandoned building. If it makes a move, he’ll find you._ ”

“Cool,” you nod. “But what about the other one? Didn’t you say it was roaming around somewhere?”

“ _It managed to hide itself from our view. I doubt even your fellow Knight would be able to see it,_ ” she says. Shit. That’s not good. FB sounds as uneasy as you feel. “ _Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do. We must wait until it decides to reveal itself. But I have eyes all over this city. The second something suspicious happens I’ll know about it._ ”

“So what’s our next plan of action?” You screw open the cap to the apple juice, leaving it on instead of taking it all the way off. “The one at the building, right?”

_“It would be best for you to deal with it today. But with the other Knight still recuperating, that course of action would not be wise. You must take care of it as soon as possible, in any case, before it has a chance to try anything we can’t undo.”_

“And it’s still at the building, right?”

_“That is correct.”_

“Well.” You pop off the cap with a thumb, and nod the bottle in her direction. “Here’s to hoping it turns out like less of a disaster than last time.” FB chuckles as you take a swig.

_“Indeed.”_

 

_

 

When you get back to your room, you’re surprised to find that there’s a message waiting for you on your computer.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TT: It wasn’t a problem. I thought you might want to keep this whole thing a secret from John.  
TT: God knows he’d try to do something incredibly stupid.  
TT: He always has everyone’s safety in mind except for his own.  
TT: And I do believe I gave a rather exceptional performance on your sickly face.  
TT: Nepeta was almost in tears. Everyone asked me to tell you they wish you well.  
TT: Although, now that I think back on it, perhaps I did overdo it a bit.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum! --

TT: I’ll just keep talking until you come back. I’m sure it’s only a momentary distraction that’s keeping you away.  
TT: And I was in English, by the way.  
TT: It was very nice to actually be able to concentrate on what the teacher was saying without promises of temptation being whispered constantly into my ear.  
TT: I actually learned things today. Imagine that!  
TG: does this mean youre going to go in even more advanced classes  
TG: because damn if that was you when you couldnt hear anything then shit  
TG: harvard yale here she comes  
TT: The possibilities truly are amazing.  
TG: hows john doing btw  
TT: He did seem to be acting rather odd when I showed up to class this afternoon.  
TT: He seems to be doing better now, though.  
TT: What happened?  
TG: apparently he thinks vantas has been avoiding him  
TG: because they used to hang out a lot before he started coming over here so we could plan  
TG: and now they dont  
TG: because hes been coming over here  
TT: Ah.  
TT: That makes this all a bit more tricky, then, doesn’t it?  
TT: You do know that his feelings are not your fault, right?  
TG: what  
TG: of course i do why would you say that  
TT: You’ve always been spectacularly self-blaming, Dave. If it were a talent you would have won all the prizes.  
TG: well yeah probably because whatever i was blaming myself for was my fault  
TG: and besides  
TG: like i said  
TG: the only reason john thinks any of this is because karkats been over here all the time  
TG: so this is sort of my fault  
TT: Perhaps it is, a little.  
TT: But it was unavoidable and you know that.  
TG: yeah but still  
TT: Dave.  
TT: Listen to me.  
TT: This is of the utmost importance.  
TT: Well?  
TG: im listening  
TT: If you insist on being so stubborn about this I will lace your apple juice with laxatives.  
TG: oh god why  
TG: rose why would you do that  
TG: why would you give me that image  
TT: :)  
TG: you are a cruel and evil being and i hate you  
TT: By the way, Dave.  
TT: You might want to check your messages.  
TT: You’ll see something you might find... interesting.  
TG: what  
TT: I have to go to class. I’ll talk to you when I get home.  
TG: rose wait what did you mean by that  
TT: Have fun. Don’t be home too late.  
TG: what

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TG: goddammit woman

But your chat is still flashing, signalling that you have unread messages. You raise an eyebrow, clicking on it to-

Oh.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: LISTEN UP, FUCKWIT.  
CG: YOU ARE GOING TO MEET ME AT THE PARK IN EXACTLY TWENTY MINUTES.  
CG: I’M TELLING YOU AND NOT ASKING YOU BECAUSE YOU DON’T GET A SAY IN THIS FUCKING MATTER.  
CG: IF I DON’T SEE YOU THERE I WILL GO TO YOUR HOUSE AND MAKE YOU OPEN THE DOOR FOR ME, WHERE WE CAN THEN DISCUSS WHAT YOU KNOW WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT IN EARSHOT OF YOUR BROTHER.  
CG: AND I’M GUESSING YOU DON’T WANT TO DO THAT.  
CG: IF YOU THINK I’M BLUFFING, I’M NOT.  
CG: I HAVE NO FUCKS LEFT TO GIVE TODAY. I HAVE NO SHAME. MY SHAME HAS DIVED RIGHT OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW AND WON’T BE BACK UNTIL LONG AFTER WE’RE DUE TO BE DONE.  
CG: DON’T.  
CG: FUCKING.  
CG: TEST ME.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little "==>" thing there. That was really indulgent and I apologize.
> 
> And with this chapter, I bring news! This baby is drawing to a close. There's around 3 more chapters left (I think. I haven't written them out yet but that's how it fits together in my head), and then a fun little bonus epilogue thing after that. I'm not exactly sure when i'll next be able to update since school starts up again on monday (grrr) but oh well.
> 
> Happy belated holidays to everyone, and thanks again for reading!


	14. A FUcking  Reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK BACK BACK BACK AGAIN GAIN GAIN GAIN

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and there has never been another moment where you’ve wanted to be someone else as much as you do now.

It’s a horrible feeling, and you deserve every second of it.

“Karkat-”

“I’m _sorry_.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, before you can think, as if explaining yourself will somehow makes things better and you’re so selfish that it’s disgusting. “Everything I said is true. I’m sorry, I wish I was lying , I wish all of this was a fucking joke but it’s not. Every single part of this is real and - and I’m a freak, I _killed Mom_ , I fucking killed her myself and I don’t even remember why and I _laughed_ about it yesterday, I’m sick and a monster and it’s-” You couldn’t see his face even if you looked up now, your vision blurry as as the heat builds behind your eyes, your shoulders shaking as you try to even out the shuddering breaths, because you don’t _deserve_ to cry. But you don’t really need to look to know what he’s feeling. You can already picture the way his face closes off and his eyes grow cold. You know his judgement has to be set towards you but you still can’t stop talking, you can’t shut your fucking goddamn mouth. “It’s all my fault, I’m the reason your leg is fucked up, I fucked up, I’m fucked up, I just fuck up everything I touch and I don’t know _why_ -”

Arms around you, crushing you, hugging you tight and warm to his chest, and you have never been so confused. “Shhh, it’s okay.” One arm is wrapped around your shoulders and the other hand is resting on the back of your head, rubbing circles into your back and your scalp with his thumbs. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” 

No, no, what is he saying, he’s got it all wrong, you’re a fucking murderer-

He squeezes you tighter for a second. “Listen to me. It’s okay. _I forgive you_.”

“No,” you say, more forcibly than you intended, trying to jerk away, but he doesn’t budge an inch. You’re too scared to use your powers on him, and you wouldn’t even if you weren’t a wreck at the moment, but he’s lying and you need to get away. “You can’t-”

“I can,” he says firmly. “Jesus fuck, Karkat, you were five! What happened was horrible, it was fucking horrible, but it was an _accident_.” 

He draws in a deep breath, rocking back and forth slightly, and you’re helpless to do anything but sway with him as you feebly try to escape his arms. “It was horrible for the both of us. But it was so much more fucking horrible for you, and I didn’t even see it and Karkat, I am _so sorry_ for that.” You hiccup against his chest, trapped between sobbing and laughing, because out of both of you, he shouldn’t be the one apologizing. He’s not the one who killed someone. The tears are hot and acid and involuntary on your face as they streak down your cheeks and into his shirt. “It’s my job as your father to look out for you, but you’ve been battling this for ten years and I didn’t even notice _once_. I should have tried harder for you.”

“Are you _kidding_?” you choke out. “You were great, I was the one who couldn’t get over myself for five minutes to actually talk to you, I was-”

“You were grieving. And you thought that I wouldn’t love you because something happened that was out of your control. I will _always_ love you, Karkat, and there’s not a thing you can do that can convince me otherwise.” And he says it so surely, is the thing, like it can’t be anything but true - there’s a familiar burning in your chest and little voice in your head saying _no, no that can’t be right, he’s lying he hates you, how can he not-_

But his heart beats strong and even and sure and you know, despite every bit of reasoning you’ve managed to wrangle up in the past ten years that says otherwise. Without a doubt.

He’s telling the truth.

He doesn’t let you go as you continue to sob into his shirt, humming tunelessly, and you are obscenely grateful for it. His heartbeat encompasses you from all sides, a steady familiar rhythm that you can’t help but draw comfort from. And you’re so _tired_ , you know that this whole thing hasn’t really sunk in yet but even so you are just unbelievably exhausted, like a planet’s worth of weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

It’s not the best metaphor. You don’t make for a very good Atlas.

You manage to calm down enough that the world is no longer a watery blur, after a ridiculously short amount of time. When you can finally breathe evenly again, your dad asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Fucking fantastic,” you say, on automatic. You still have that _spectacular_ headache pounding its merry way between your ears, no doubt made worse by all the gross sobbing you just did - psychic mindfuckery and dehydration headache combo, it’s your lucky day - your mouth is dry and you are really fucking thirsty. “That - that wasn’t sarcasm, by the way. I’m good.” You are, even if you are omitting a few key details; and your dad knows it, if the mildly disbelieving look he’s giving you is any indication, but he lets it slide.

You bring up a hand to wipe away the wetness on your face and your dad catches your wrist. There are a series of bloody little half-crescent moons where your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, and he makes a sort of unhappy thinking sound. “I think we still have some band-aids in the bathroom. I’ll go get them.” 

You shake your head before he can move. “No, it’s-” You pull the blood on your hand back into the veins in your palm, concentrating through the slight tugging sensations as the skin knits closed after it, leaving no sign of there having been anything wrong at all. You watch his face pensively as you do this, because, okay, there’s _saying_ you’re cool with your kid being a freak of nature and then there’s actually being okay with it, and you’d like to figure out which one he is sooner rather than later, and he... he barely even blinks, just studies your hand with an expression of absent-minded curiosity. It doesn’t last long, though.

He sighs, a long, tired sound. “I thought you might have been able to escape all of this, when you didn’t come to talk about...” He thumbs over the unbroken skin of your palms and he doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know what he means. “And you never showed any signs of being different. But this time it seems my optimism just made things more difficult than they could have been.”

It takes a few moments of slowly building confusion for his words to catch up with you. “Wait, wait, wait,” you say, stepping back only slightly; he should know you’re not pushing him away just yet. _(Part of you hopes that it will never end and you’re surprisingly okay with that overly-sentimental squishy soft feeling that comes with it)_. “You _knew_.”

“Suspected,” he corrects quietly, and if the grimace that forms on his face is any indication, then you’re going to guess that your raised eyebrows are more than a bit accusing. 

After a moment, though, you relent, too tired to keep up any and all angry pretenses when you’re just glad to have it all behind you. You settle for knocking your forehead into his chest and giving a quiet growl that you hope conveys your weary frustration. He huffs a breathy laugh, combing a hand lightly through your hair. It’s surprisingly relaxing. 

Fuck, you missed him.

But as much as you would really, _really_ like to drag this out, there are still things you need to ask him.

You swallow past the persisting dryness in your mouth. “Dad.” He hums, and you lean back to look up at his face. “Those things you said last night. What were you talking about?”

His hand stills in your hair, and you know your dad’s about to go on one of his expositions.

You can _sense_ it.

“Ah,” he says, careful like he’s trying to gather his thoughts, and honestly you wouldn’t doubt it. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation. But this isn’t a... very easy story to tell. I’ll try to make it short.” He takes a deep breath, holds it in. Exhales slowly.

“I’m sure you’ve probably guessed by now,” he begins, “that I wasn’t the most normal of children growing up. I thought I was the only one, until your uncle transferred to my school. We found out later that your mother was different as well.” 

You take a breath of your own, try not to let the implication of his words get to you. “What can you do?”

“Mituna was telekinetic. Smart, as well, and amazingly so. Meulin was extremely adept at relationships. We could never tell if she caused them or if she could just sense when they would form, but either way, it wasn’t natural.” He smiles fondly, distantly. A familiar heavy weight settles in your chest but you ignore it. “I was an empath. It was a blessing and a curse at times. As we grew up, though, our abilities began to fade. Mituna’s powers are almost gone altogether, and I...” He runs a hand through his own hair. “I can hardly tell whether the things I feel are real or imagined anymore.”

You try to imagine what it would be like, to have such a major part of yourself slowly fade away. As much as you’ve hated it, this power, this _curse_ , wished it would go away, wished you could be normal, hoped it would disappear...

Fuck.

You hug him tighter, which is a little difficult seeing as how you’re already latched onto him like a fucking vice, but you manage. He returns it, albeit more gently. 

“Karkat,” he says, and you tense. It’s the way he says it. You’re not sure what’s different, whether it’s his tone or the emphasis he puts on your name, but something fucking is. “Now would be a good time for you to explain what the hell happened last night.”

_Fuck._

“My turn to say this isn’t easy to explain.” You root around in your head. Starting point, starting point, what’s a good starting point, okay fuck. _Just - choose_. “So basically there are evil shadow ex-god things that are trying to destroy the universe which only I can see and, I have to fight them because a crow told me to. And you got possessed by one last night. So was I, but I was able to fight it off before I killed Dave. It was pretty fucking close, though.”

Perfect. 

Your dad blinks.

“Okay, no, that was bad. God, I probably sound fucking insane.”

“No,” your dad says slowly. “I think I understand. Malevolent ex-gods that only you can see who aim to destroy the universe, and a... crow told you to fight them?”

“Well, not me. Dave is the one who can talk to crows.”

“Dave.”

“Yes.”

“Can talk to crows.”

You shift a little from side to side, not really sure what he’s getting at. “Yes?”

“And, if I’m remembering correctly, can also apparently control the flow of time.”

Not really, but close enough. “Yeah.”

“And he’s a part of this how?”

His words say one thing, but his tone says _how did he get you involved in this, the punk_ and you’ll need to set that straight if you, haha, if you plan on actually...

Getting. Together.

With Dave.

Yeah.

(If you look closely, you think you can see an even more prominent rejection in the future, one that has to do with more mundane things like sexuality and lifestyle choices rather than super-powers and infinite beings that come from the abyss. Look at you, being a normal teenager for once.)

“...Sort of a long story.” You shrug, slightly uneasy, because hey, if your dad insists on hating Dave’s guts then guess who that’ll be a problem for? “The crows he talked to knew more about the shadows then I did and they decided that something needed to be done before our universe got destroyed. And they need our help to do it. He makes them physical and I kill ‘em, pretty much.”

“Is that what you were doing last night?”

Oh crap you think you can see where this is going.

“...Yes?”

He sighs again. This time it sounds much, much more resigned. “I won’t ask you to stop,” he says, and you can’t help but think oh thank God before you have to refocus on what he’s saying as he keeps talking. “But I will ask you to be careful.” You open your mouth to respond when suddenly _oof okay return of the hug attacks dad please maybe relax a little-_ “I don’t want to lose you.”

You’re confident enough in your ability to fuck things up to know that anything you’ll try to say to comfort him will probably just end up making things about a billion fuckton times worse. So, you don’t say anything. You just hug him back. And struggle to breathe just the slightest bit because holy fuck your dad is fucking strong.

“Sorry,” he says after a minute, loosening his grip on you. He smiles a little, but underneath it you think you can see the slightest bit of quiet fear. He claps a hand onto your shoulder and squeezes. “I’ve called the school for you.” The sudden change of topic makes you pause. “You’re excused for the rest of the day, and I would rather you stay home, but if you really want to go...”

He won’t stop you, is what you guess he’s saying. You weigh your options. Your friends are probably flipping their shit at you missing your second day in, well, forever. Or not. You’re not entirely sure how much of a shit they’re really willing to flip about you. Equius just hangs around because Nepeta hangs around, and Tavros only sits with you at lunch because your group makes up the entirety of his social life at your school. 

It depends on whether Dave and Rose decided to go today. You can guess how much of his shit _John_ would flip if you all managed a x3 Truancy Combo, but you won’t know for sure unless you talk to Dave again; you never found out if Rose went, and Dave could’ve decided to actually be a responsible person for once.

As unlikely as it is, you just _never know_. You’re honestly hoping that one day he will surprise you.

After your little mental breakdown and remembrance of Dave’s maybe-love confession, though. 

Yeah. You need to talk to Dave, and it certainly wouldn’t be a good idea to have that little conversation at school.

“I need to talk to some people,” you say, rubbing your face as your headache continues to produce static between your ears. “Make sure they’re okay and all that. I might have to go out, I don’t know. Fuck, I have things to do.”

“I’ll let you get to that, then.” Your dad smiles at you again,, but just as you’re about to pull away, he tightens his grip on your shoulders to keep you in place. “Thank you for telling me,” he says. “It was very brave of you. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel like you have to hide anything from me ever again, okay?” His eyes flit across your face searchingly, looking for a confirmation there. You try not to keep him waiting for long.

“I won’t,” you say, and hope very much that that’s a promise you can keep. You don’t want to have to lie to your father again. It’s not something you ever enjoyed doing and it’s certainly not going to be happening again in the future if you can help it. He lets you pull away this time, and your mind starts to shift to what you’re going to say, how you’re going to put everything into place. Your dad interrupts you just as you start to climb the stairs.

“You remember Mituna’s son, Sollux?” he asks.

Sollux? Well, you’ve heard of the guy, but every time you tried to talk to him online he just said leave me the fuck alone. and then blocked you. And then _unblocked_ you, apologized, and blocked you again before you could respond. Not exactly someone you tend to think about very often.

“Sort of,” you shrug, and your dad gives a little half-smile.

“He’s quite gifted as well,” he begins. “Telekinetic, just like his father. We were planning for you two meet, but when you’d seemed to be void of anything preternatural, Sollux apparently lost interest. You might want to try talking to him again.”

Okay. Just another asshole with weird powers. No big deal.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m gonna go... clean up now.” You motion down to your shirt, which is covered in a fuckton of dirty red stains, a constant distraction in your mind and on your skin that... you kind of forgot about for a moment there. But it’s front and center now; it’s really fucking difficult to concentrate when you’re hyper-focused on every single drenched fiber in your shirt. Your dad nods in understanding.

You don’t waste any time. Mostly. You do loiter a bit in the shower but who the fuck even cares. The water is warm and feels nice on the sore skin of your face, and your headache seems to melt and wash down the drain with the dirty water. You also take a few seconds to stare at your bathroom’s trashcan, which is almost full with wads of bloody toilet paper. Probably from Dave, you figure, and then you hurry back to your room.

You can’t tell if it’s nervousness or excitement that’s making your heart thrum. Possibly both. It’s just, after this, you’ll know for sure whether or not Dave likes you back. 

Unless.

Stop. Okay. Sit down on your bed, now that you’ve changed into cleaner clothes. Take a moment to think seriously about this shit.

Do _you_ like him?

It’s a fucking ridiculous thing to question yourself over, especially at this exact moment when it feels like everything is coming to a head at once, but it’s still something that deserves some very serious consideration. Through all of this, through every talk and fight and every second of time you’ve spent with Dave, you _haven’t_ been thinking, not really. More just going along with the flow, taking refuge in the fact that, hey! Someone else who knows what it feels like to be the extremely odd one out. 

Dave’s an asshole, sure. An asshole who’s way too obsessed with irony and apple juice and is a God damn terrible fucking rapper. He’s driven you to near speechlessness from rage on multiple occasions, laughing at you from behind his poker face the entire time. He’s been purposefully obtuse and downright ignored any concept of personal space at times, not to mention his amazing emotional constipation.

But he’s been kind to you, too. He’s shown genuine concern for you when you’ve least expected it, whether it was because of whatever the fuck you’d been doing with your powers lately or if he was asking about the situation with your dad. He’s been there for you. He accepted you for who you are with no questions asked. He’s been the one person who you knew you could turn to no matter what, these past couple of weeks. He’s been the one person you could be _yourself_ with.

But maybe...that’s the problem?

How sure are you that what you’re feeling isn’t just gratitude? You’ve felt love before, sure, except maybe it would be better to describe it as more of a crush; God knows that thing with John was _doomed_ to fail from the start. Isn’t this maybe going a little too fast? 

You run your hands over your face, carding them through your hair. You breathe out a long, tired growl, exhaling until all of the breath is out of your lungs.

Maybe you’re fooling yourself.

Your computer pings, and you draw in a breath of surprise at the sudden sound.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

TT: ;)

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

What.

CG: WHAT.  
CG: LALONDE WHAT THE HELL.

But she’s gone.

Wow. Okay. You don’t even want to _know_ what that face is about. At least she sounds like she’s doing better? 

Your pesterchum is still blinking, though, and you’re mildly surprised to find that it’s from Dave. You honestly thought he would be trying his best to avoid you right now. But scrolling through the handful of lines, it’s only something about John and making him think you’re sick. Kind of random, but at least that’s something you can do.

You read over the lines again, as if you look hard enough between his awkward hesitancy you’ll find an answer there.

Hm.

You come to a decision.

Dave’s status shows as ‘away’ but you send him a message anyway, rapid-fire right after the other before you can convince yourself otherwise. It wouldn’t be likely; you feel strangely, suddenly determined, somehow, because after everything that happened today and yesterday, like _fuck_ are you going to back down now.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: LISTEN UP, FUCKWIT.

Done. No going back now.

Good.

You check the time. Check your clothes. Give up on your hair before you can even start. Pull on your shoes, cursing under your breath, and take your shoes off before applying socks and shoving your shoes back on. Check the time again -- T-minus nineteen minutes.

“I’m going out,” you tell your dad when you get downstairs, and he stops typing on his laptop to look up at you. You hesitate before asking, “Is that okay?”

“Of course. I trust you.” He smiles encouragingly, and holds up a thumb. “Good luck.”

It doesn’t occur to you to question his words until you’re already out the door, squinting in the sudden light.

‘Good luck’?

...Has he known this _entire time_?

No. That would be stupid. He has whatever is left of his empathy thing, right? He probably just felt you being nervous and wanted to say something nice.

The alternative is just a little too much for you to comprehend right now.

Okay. Park. Park is _that_ way. You check your phone as you walk. Seventeen minutes. Okay.

You’ve made your decision.

And you’re going to go through with it, no matter the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can thank [half_a_league](http://archiveofourown.org/users/half_a_league/pseuds/half_a_league) for the quality of this chapter. best beta. 
> 
> You can probably still tell where i left off for a while before coming back to it. bluuuuuh
> 
> my apologies for the 2 1/2 month long wait. Hoooooooopefully the next won't be as long.
> 
> Hopefully. *cough*


	15. A FUcking Agreement

Just for kicks, you decide to wait by the tree where you and Dave had first found out about each other. It’s sunny out, almost no clouds in the sky, and you hold a hand over your eyes to shield them from the wind. You do a quick sweep around the park, checking the trees and the fences for any suspicious-looking crows. But then again, all crows are suspicious as fuck, so that’d be a lost cause either way. You don’t see any, though, which is the important part. This is either a good thing or a bad thing. You’re not entirely sure which. It’s a good thing because it means you still have time, that Dave isn’t too close yet, but it’s a bad thing, because, well.

_He isn’t close yet._

Fuck. What if he isn’t coming? Now that you’re here you’re not entirely sure you have the guts to actually go down to Dave’s apartment if he decides to evolve into a literal piece of shit. Which is just, fantastic, really. For all you know he could be calling you on your maybe-bluff and just waiting you out in his room. Or he could be literally right around the corner. Fuck. Okay. Think this shit through.You have _blood powers_ , use them.

You let your vision unfocus as you concentrate on that extra sense, ignoring the faster heartbeats of small animals scattered around the park to try and single out that of a human coming from the direction of Dave’s apartment. There can’t be much time left before the twenty minutes is up. Fuck. Fuck, what if he doesn’t show up? 

No. He’ll come. He has to. He may be an idiotic shitfucker at the best of times but he doesn’t run away. He won’t run away now.

Your own heartbeat picks up as you feel another enter your range; human, and fast, as if whoever it belongs to had been running. Okay. Okay! You can do this. Shit, yep, you’re gonna do this.

You tune all of the heartbeats out as Dave comes into sight, taking a deep breath to try to steady your nerves. In vain, probably, but it’s the thought that counts, right? 

As he comes closer, it’s obvious he was rushing; hair all over the place, with a change of shirt that’s wrinkled in more than a few places. Even without listening for it, you can still hear his heart beating in his chest. You shift back and forth on your feet.

“Strider,” you say shortly, and he nods. “You came.”

He shrugs. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know _what_ to think-- that’s kind of the problem here.” It comes out a bit more defensive than you intended it to, and it just serves to remind you why you’re here in the first place. It must do the same for Dave as well, if the uncomfortable silence that settles between you is anything to go by. You just continue to glare where his eyes should be, which. Actually. “Take off your shades,” you say, and then fight the urge to wince as you’re reminded yet again of last night. “Or don’t, whatever, I was just hoping maybe there could be some fucking transparency here or something, but if you want to keep the damn things on for whatever reason then by all means--”

“Karkat,” he says, cutting you off, and he hesitates slightly before reaching up to push his shades back into his hair. His eyebrows are drawn into a barely-there expression of nervousness, but seeing it still makes you feel better for some reason. Which is kind of fucked up, probably, but you’ll take whatever peace you can get. “Look, transparency, see? This shit will be more transparent than a fish tank at a dentist’s office, with a whole bunch of plants and rocks and pretty fish to look at as you’re waiting to get your teeth pulled out, except there’s no rocks or fish or anything so you can see straight through to the other side and you’re left looking at it like, where the fuck are all the fish, what the hell, this isn’t what I paid for, I want my god damn fish, but too bad bro, you’re stuck with the most transparent fish tank of all time as you’re waiting for the most painful root canal in your entire life, and looks like you’re up next, so...” He trails off. Your eyebrows have been steadily rising the entire time.

“You done?”

“That probably wasn’t the best metaphor to use there, was it.”

“No, not really.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

You spend a good couple of seconds trying to fight the smile that wants to form on your face before you just settle for rolling your eyes and hoping that your amusement isn’t too obvious. When Dave chuckles, though, it’s like the tension that had formed dissipates into something that feels less like you’re walking to an early death. 

“Jesus christ,” Dave mutters, a corner of his mouth quirked up as he shakes his head slowly back and forth. “What are we doing?”

You huff a laugh. “Making complete asses of ourselves, probably. Except that’s already you every day.”

“I would try to argue but that’s pretty true.”

“Holy shit. Dave Strider, actually admitting that he’s a _complete ass_? Fucking amazing.”

“I don’t know,” he says, and turns his gaze somewhere past you, to your left. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious. Especially after last night.” 

Oh.

Yeah.

There’s a few moments where neither of you say anything. Come on, you fucker, you were the one who called him here. And then _he’s_ the one to get you both on track. Aren’t you supposed to have some great fucking battle plan on how to tackle this shit? All you have to do is _ask_ whether he meant any of what he said or not and you’re good to fucking go. Or not. You don’t even know anymore. More like, you _do_ know, but you’re too much of an indecisive scared pile of horse crap to actually get this over with. 

Being self-aware is such a pain and anyone with half a working block of brain matter probably understands.

“...It’s fine.” No no it’s not what the fuck are you saying. “I’m the one who let the brainfucking monster inside my headspace. Christ, I was legitimately going to _kill_ you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not an ass. In fact, I’m such an ass that if there was an ass, I’d be the ass _on_ that ass. It’d be a times-two butt combo package, with absolutely no satisfaction guaranteed, that’s how much of an ass I am.”

Fuck, this is getting you both nowhere. Okay. “Look.” You bite the inside of your cheek and look up. Nothing better to distract you than the sky. The cloudless, blue sky. Haha you’re so fucked. “I don’t even really care so much that you said that. Your life was kind of on the line and I’m glad that happened instead of me killing you and going on to destroy the entire world-slash-universe in an act of chaotic godrage puppet fuckery. Now all I want to know is if you actually meant any of the wordspew that was dribbling out of your mouth.”

He says nothing, but you feel his heart rate pick up. The urge to see what his face looks like rises, but you keep your gaze firmly planted upwards. God. You really just said that. Holy fuck. Why did you ever think this was a good idea? Is there any way you can backtrack from this? ‘Nevermind Dave let’s just pretend none of this ever happened and continue on our way to destroying these fucking things, hahaha’ has a nice ring to it, but whether or not it’d actually work is a different matter entirely. 

“Well,” Dave says, and you look at him before you can stop yourself. You expect him to glance away when your eyes meet, but he doesn’t. “I mean. Do you want me to?”

That.

Okay, that wasn’t the answer you were expecting at all.

You’re not sure what expression your face is making, but whatever it is is apparently enough to push Dave into speaking again. “And it’s fine, if you don’t. I mean, we still have a job to do, you know, save the entire universe and all that, and if you just want to keep this professional then, you know. I can respect that. I can respect the _fuck_ out of that. And if you’re not interested, you’re not interested, right? That’s cool. Like, so cool that Bro will have to thaw me out and he’ll be like ‘what the fuck, dude’. I will literally transform into a block of ice. Because it’s that cool.” He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“On it.”

You stare at him. He stares at you. 

You--

“Yes,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Dave blinks.

“What?”

“I said yes.” You duck your head, because you can feel your face heating up and that’s just fucking embarrassing. “I want you. To mean it. I want you to mean it.”

“Wait, are you, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, you sputnik, if I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have fucking said it.” You glance up and see that his face has to be at least as red as yours. Which is comforting.

“Then, uh. Shit.” His heart rate picks up again. Which is really saying something at this point. “Let’s be boyfriends?”

You two are so fucking awkward. This is amazing. “Yeah. Let’s be boyfriends.”

Before you realize what he’s doing he’s stepped forward and scoops you up into a hug. You splutter. It’s a manly splutter, with absolutely no flailing involved.

“Dave, put me the _fuck_ down--”

“No thanks.”

“--Or I swear to all that is holy I will tear your face to shreds--”

“Love you too bro.” Jesus christ. You splutter again. “Besides, if you really wanted me to put you down you’d have already made me do it.”

Fuck. “Asshole,” you mutter, and just sort of. Hug him back. “And calm the fuck down. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your ribcage and smack me in the face. I’ve already ruined one shirt with bloodstains, thank you.”

“Well then excuse the fuck out of me. I’ll just get right on that.”

Neither of you move for a minute. It’s. Nice. And if you’re smiling, at least Dave can’t see it. 

“Now what,” you mumble. “Are we just going to stand here in this gross instance of PDA for the rest of eternity?”

“That sounds good,” Dave says. “Or, I don’t know, I hear there’s a good burger joint down the street.”

You lean back to squint at him. You’re reminded again that his shades are still on top of his head. “Are you asking me out on a date, Strider?”

He smirks, but the color in his cheeks betray him. Incredible. “I guess I am.”

“Good.” You reach a hand up and knock his shades back onto his face. You can still see him blink behind them. “Because the asker does the buying.”

“Aw come on, you’re gonna bleed me dry.”

“You know I only want you for your money.”

You start moving in the direction of the burger place you think he was talking about; you’ve been there a few times. It’s alright. 

You hold hands the entire way there.

-

You stop for a moment in the doorway when you get home, leaning against the door after it closes behind you. The past twenty-four to forty-eight hours have been one hell of a wild ride and you are. Surprisingly okay.

Things are surprisingly okay.

“Dad?” There’s an answering grunt from the kitchen. You follow the sound, frowning slightly. He’s still on the computer, but when you walk in he looks up and smiles at you. “I hope you haven’t been there the entire time I’ve been gone.”

“...Woops?” He closes it guiltily as your frown deepens. “ I had things to do. Put that eyebrow back down.”

“Ahuh.” You sit down and slide him the bag in your hands. He catches it. Barely. Good going, dad.

He actually gasps when he reads what’s on the bag. “Is this Rufioh’s?”

“Yep. I stopped by there and I know how much you’re obsessed with that place and their fried zucchini so I got you some.”

“ _Yess_.” The kitchen fills with the sound of crinkling as he opens the paper bag. At least he’s not literally tearing it open this time. “I didn’t think that’s where you’d be going.”

“I’m just full of surprises.”

“So it would seem. Is, ah, this one yours?” He grins as he holds out a smaller box of leftovers, which is absolutely covered in little red markered hearts. Which you completely forgot about.

Your take it from him and try to hid the way your face practically explodes.

\--

You get back to your apartment with a bag of leftovers in your hand and, okay, maybe you’re smiling just a little bit. Which is cool. Rose isn’t back yet and there weren’t any traps in the stairway, which means Bro probably isn’t home either. 

Probably.

Oh god you hope so.

You manage to chuck your food into the fridge and speedwalk to your room without incident, and you’re just congratulating yourself on a job well done when you sit on your bed and something underneath you _squeaks._

Oh no. Oh no oh god no please.

You slowly reach a hand underneath you and nearly whimper when your fingers come in contact with something that could only be described as _plush_. Nearly. It’s a close call.

Rolling over to get away from Bro’s gross smuppets only makes things worse. Especially when you see which ones they are.

They’re his _the Talk_ smuppets.

You think you’re going to be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :v  
> v:  
> six months  
> i am so sorry


	16. A FUcking Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lower your arms as the shadow’s last screams fade away, casting a glance over to Dave as you do so. His nose is bleeding, and so is yours, but considering what happened the last couple of times, this one was a cakewalk. He gives you a thumbs up.

You lower your arms as the shadow’s last screams fade away, casting a glance over to Dave as you do so. His nose is bleeding, and so is yours, but considering what happened the last couple of times, this one was a cakewalk. He gives you a thumbs up.

“Three down, one to go,” he says. “No more missing homeless people. Here, at least.”

Waving a strand of spiderweb out of your face, you walk over to the stairway of the abandoned building. Neither of you look at the door of the room where Dave fell as you pass by it. The sound of your feet on the stairs echoes in the hallway. “Have you heard any news on where the last shadow is?”

“Nope. Not a peep. Last time I talked to her, FB said it’s still hidden.”

“Fantastic.” 

“All we need to do is a little investigating. Like, go full detective on this shit. You know this city better than me, so, any idea where a malevolent being from beyond might be hanging out?”

Compared to inside, the sun as you exit the building is bright enough to make you squint. The plus side to wearing shades literally everywhere he goes like a massive douche: Dave doesn’t have that problem. You shade your eyes with a hand as you wipe at your nose, grimacing when it comes away smeared with red. You wipe it on your shirt. The plus side to always wearing black like a massive douche: bloodstains don’t show. “Fuck if I know. The DMV? My history teacher’s house?” Dave huffs a laugh and you sigh, trying to think of something more serious. “Well, if we want to keep going with the abandoned building theme, there’s another one downtown. I don’t know if there’s been any scary rumours about that one, but.”

“Sounds like a good a place as any.” Dave runs a hand through his hair. “Should we go check it out?”

“Now?”

He shrugs. “Might as well. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“No. Let’s just go and get this over with.”

“Hey. If it’s there, then we’re done. No more weird shadow things.” He flashes you a grin as he follows you down to the sidewalk, in the direction where you know the other building is. “No more nosebleeds. How awesome does that sound?”

“Super fucking awesome, if you ask me.” 

You can’t help but feel a moment of doubt, though. Once this is over, what’s going to happen? No more threat to the entire universe, yeah, and no more imminent possibility of having your will highjacked by a shadow at any moment, leaving the taste of rot and saltwater in the back of your throat for days. No more other-wordly dangers; just normal ones. But the shadows were the entire reason you started actually talking to Dave in the first place.

So who’s to say that things won’t go right back to how they were before?

It’s stupid to think. Do you _want_ the shadows to keep running rampant? Fuck no. Is it really all that likely that you and Dave will drift apart when there’s no bigger cause keeping you together? Probably not. It’s just. You can’t help but think it anyway.

And now that you think about it, what are you supposed to do with your powers after this? The logical thing would be to just stop using them like you were before, but. You can’t. You can’t go back to that. Even just thinking about it is making your head hurt. 

You bite absently at the inside of your cheek. Those are problems for future you to deal with. You’ll just kill this last shadow and deal with the consequences afterward.

You look up on automatic when you feel Dave reaching for you, and, oh shit, he’s been trying to talk to you, hasn’t he. He draws his hand back when he sees he has your attention.

“Dude, your pants are vibrating,” he says, pointing down to your pocket. “You should probably get that.”

Wow, you’re just not attentive today, are you? Your phone buzzes angrily even as you pick it up, squinting at the screen.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

EB: hey, karkat.  
EB: are you up?  
EB: i hope so dude it’s like 12 in the afternoon.  
EB: nope i just checked it’s actually 1.  
EB: you can’t just sleep in all day you know.  
EB: well, you can, but you shouldn’t.  
EB: pfffft hehe who am i kidding. i just barely woke up.  
EB: come oooonnnnn i need to talk to you!

“It’s John,” you supply.

“Oohh. What does he want?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t asked yet. Try giving me a moment.”

CG: I’M HERE, YOU IMPATIENT DICKWAD.  
CG: IT’S NOT LIKE I’M BUSY OR ANYTHING.  
EB: let me guess. hanging out with dave?  
CG: YEAH ACTUALLY.  
CG: EXCEPT I WOULDN’T CALL IT “HANGING OUT” AS MUCH AS IT’S ME TRYING TO SHOVE MATHEMATICAL FORMULAS WHERE THEY’LL STICK, SO THAT MAYBE HE DOESN’T FAIL *EVERY* TEST HIS TEACHER GIVES.  
CG: IT’S NOT LOOKING VERY HOPEFUL.  
EB: dang. good luck, buddy.  
EB: both of you will need it.  
EB: anyway! are you guys almost done?  
CG: IT MIGHT BE A WHILE.  
CG: WHY?  
EB: i need to talk to you.  
CG: YOU’RE TALKING TO ME NOW.  
EB: duuhhh.  
EB: in person. :p  
CG: OH. CAN IT WAIT?  
EB: not really. it’s kind of important.  
CG: HOW IMPORTANT COULD IT POSSIBLY BE?  
EB: important enough that i need you to get your butt over to my house asap.

“He wants me to go over to his house so he can talk to me about something. I’ll just tell him I’m busy.”

“No,” Dave says, and you pause where you’d started to type out your message, raising your eyebrows at him. “No, you should go.”

“I think checking out the other building takes priority over hearing whatever it is John wants to talk to me about.”

“Dude, it’s chill,” he says, and your eyebrows raise further. “I’ll just see if there’s anything suspicious going on while you go do the thing. Multitasking.”

“And if the shadow decides to just be done with pretenses and fucking attack you while you’re completely defenseless?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Completely defenseless. That hurts, bro. I got my moves. Besides, it won’t come to that. I’ll be careful. And silent, like a really silent thing that doesn’t get caught by supernatural forces trying to destroy the universe.” He shrugs slightly; _whatever_. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll ask FB to come with me.”

“You really want me to go, don’t you?”

“Yep. I think it’s important.” He raises an eyebrow at you, this time. “Unless you really don’t think _John_ is all that important.”

You frown, wiping a hand down your face. Shit. Fuck it.

“Fine.”

EB: seriously. i wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t something you need to know.  
EB: so. yeah.  
EB: hello?  
CG: I’LL BE THERE IN A FEW MINUTES.  
CG: I KNOW IT’LL BE HARD BUT TRY NOT TO SHIT YOURSELF WITH EXCITEMENT IN THE MEANTIME.  
EB: no promises!  
EB: thanks.  
CG: DON’T MENTION IT.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

“There. I told him I’m going. Happy now?” 

“Absolutely.” He gives you another thumbs up, smiling slightly. “I’ll find FB and get her to show me where the place is. Now, shoo.” 

“Get rid of me faster, why don’t you.” Rolling your eyes, you turn around accordingly in the direction where you know John’s house is, shouting over your shoulder. “And be fucking careful!” 

Always am, Vantas.” 

You wave, not looking behind you as you walk away. 

You’ll regret that, later. 

_ _ 

It takes less time than you thought it would to find FB; you don’t even have to whistle. Not five minutes after Karkat goes to do some bro-ly bonding with John, you hear a familiar krr-caw and there’s a feathery weight settling on your shoulder. You swear, one day she’s gonna take you by surprise and you’ll be down an eye. Or an ear. Maybe an entire half of your face. 

\Eugh. 

_“The Knight. Where is he going?”_

“Just to John’s,” you say, and you don’t have to talk to crows regularly to know that the rasp she makes in her throat is less than pleased. 

_“There is still work to be done. Now is not the time to be gallivanting about and letting your guard down, not when we’re so close.”_

“Chillax. He’ll be back soon. Besides, Karkat says there’s another building that might be worth checking out. I figured I could see what’s up while he gets his business settled.” 

She rearranges her wings, her entire frame a grimace. Who even knew that was possible? You learn something new every day. _“...If it can’t be helped, then I suppose it’s for the best. You know where this building is?”_

And now the risky part. You casually just, readjust your glasses. If it just so happens that your shades fall so that a wayward beak couldn’t poke out an eye, then, well. Look at that. Shit’s serendipitous. Who are you to get in the way of such workings of fate? “Sort of. A little.” Haha yes hello FB’s beady black eye, squinting at you dangerously. The urge to ramble out what you want in a definitely not lie/half-truth rises, but you know that’d only piss her off. More. Piss her off more. “I was hoping you could show me where it is, actually.” 

_“I am not a pigeon to run errands for you as you please, boy,”_ she hisses. 

“I know, I know.” If she were in front of you, you would bring up your hands placatingly, but all you can do is raise your shoulders slightly. “I wouldn’t be asking you if there were any quicker way. We’re so close, right?” Please let this work, please let this work. 

You almost expect her to growl in frustration, but instead she just rearranges her wings again, clicking her beak. _“You walk a thin line here, Knight. Yes, I know where it is. This will be the only time I do this for you.”_ Oh thank god. 

“Aw, shit, you’re too kind.” 

_“I know. Follow me. Try to keep up.”_ She lifts off from your shoulder, flying up to land on a telephone pole a few yards ahead, and you stride after her, trying to not keep her waiting. That would not end well. As soon as you get close enough for her liking she’s off again. You follow after her like this for a while, and, hey, if you almost lose her a few times, it’s only because she’s a temperamental birb in the middle of a busy city. 

Seventeen minutes have passed by the time FB stops on the roof of a building that has definitely seen better days. You pause for a moment in the empty lot. One story. No broken windows that you can see. 

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself. “A really silent thing. Yeah. Let’s do this.” 

...And of course the door to the building is locked. Seriously? People actually being responsible? What is the world coming to. 

Round and around we go. Casually side-stepping a pile of what you hope is just dog shit, you jump the fence to the back and, yesss, a back door. There’s a lock, but upon closer inspection you find that it’s been cut. Thank you, delinquent teenagers. Where would the world be without them? Haha who are you kidding, you’re a delinquent teenager. Ah the sweet, sweet taste of hypocrisy. 

“Fucking hell,” you cough, waving a hand in front of your face as you step into the building. The smell of mold and damp seems to permeate everything, not to mention the faint, unmistakable whiff of _dead thing_ that you catch. Who knows if that means anything important. Sometimes a dead thing is just a dead thing. 

Well. Serious business time. You hook your shades into the collar of your shirt and step quietly through the building, squinting through the dusty light. People can hate on Converse all they like, but you have to admit that they’re hella awesome for creeping when they’ve been worn down a bit. 

A good bit. You’ve had these for a long time, alright? 

All you find in the first couple of rooms are empty file cabinets, a stray chair, the occasional empty, abandoned beer bottle. You stumble upon a mattress, consider for a moment what it could possibly be in here for, and then wrinkle your nose before carefully stepping around it. Seriously people, there’s a time and a place. There are much better places to do the full nasty. Like, a room with actual lighting and that doesn’t smell like something just croaked. Talk about a mood-killer. Well. Unless they’re into that stuff? Oh god. Nope. Nope nope not thinking about that now, not thinking about that, _ever._

You freeze in the middle of a horrified shudder when you hear something at the other end of the room. 

Shit. Shit shit. Do you- back up slowly? If you want to get out of here, sure, but you have no idea what that was. It sounded like tiny feet scurrying through trash. Then again, if you’re still taking things at face-value after all the crap you’ve seen and been through, you obviously haven’t learned your lesson. Shiiit. Okay. 

You have to check this out. 

You take a step forward, keeping your breathing even and quiet, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Float like a butterfly. Sting like a bee. You are speed. You are awesomeness. You are reaching a hand to the board leaning up against the wall and you are moving it away. 

The thing behind it lets out an ear-splitting shriek and leaps right at you. 

You throw yourself to the side, heart in your throat, biting your tongue in your effort to hold back a scream as the board clatters to the floor. You hear the sound of more tiny feet scurrying away into the adjacent room before you can even get up. 

Holy shit. Okay. Uh. You guess that was actually just a rat. 

...You landed on the mattress. Time to transform into a dragon and destroy the universe from pure mortification. 

Nose properly wrinkled once again, you get on your feet and dust off your jeans, and then palm your phone and step through the door back the way you came. Time to get out of this place. 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

TG: bruh  
TG: b r u h  
TG: told you i could handle it  
TG: the place is as empty as a buffet line after bros had a go at it  
TG: looks like it was a dead end  
TG: ill check with fb while you wrap up with john and see if shes got any suggestions on where to go next  
TG: hey maybe rose has an idea  
TG: anyway  
TG: how are things over there  
CG: hi, dave!

Oh shit. Okay. 

TG: either the karkat i know and love has suddenly had a huge lift in mood or a wild egbert has appeared  
CG: yes, it is i, karkat. i’ve realized that being grumpy all the time may be amusing but is bad for my health so i’m following in john’s footsteps, who is super awesome and sooo much smarter than me in every way.  
CG: (hehe.)  
TG: well shit  
TG: congratulations bro  
CG: thanks!  
CG: hey, what were you talking about up there? that doesn’t sound like math formulas.  
TG: nah see  
TG: i have this assignment that i gotta go to real life places and do all this weird math shit to calculate renovations  
TG: budgets and algebraic equations and all that  
TG: i was checking out this building but i dont think its gonna work  
CG: pfft.  
TG: whats funny  
CG: what isn’t funny about you, dave?  
TG: ouch  
TG: you wound me  
CG: hehehe.  
TG: for reals tho can i talk to karkat for a sec  
TG: do i even want to know why you have his phone in the first place

You shoulder open the back door of the building, tucking your shades back onto your face. 

CG: probably not.

FB caws from the roof; an urgent, wordless noise. You glance up at her before making quick work of hopping the fence again and looking back at the phone. 

CG: sorry dave. karkat’s a little busy at the moment!  
TG: really  
TG: with what

You almost miss John’s response when FB drops onto your shoulder. The feathers around her neck are poofed up slightly. She chitters. _“The shadow- something isn’t right-”_

CG: i’m not really sure i should tell you.  
CG: seeing as how you haven’t been very honest with me.

Your alarm at FB’s words turns into a peculiar mix of shame and cold dread when you see the text on the screen. 

Oh. 

Shit. 

You don’t know how he found out -- maybe he figured it out for himself, or shit, maybe Karkat somehow let slip -- but this, right here. This is bad. Oh no. You grimace as more lines of gray pop up on the screen. 

CG: “bro problems”!   
CG: “studying”!  
CG: i’m not stupid you know. in fact, i think if anyone here is out of the loop, it’s you.  
TG: fuck  
TG: look john im sorry okay  
TG: sorry from the bottom of my shrivelled lying heart   
TG: i never wanted to lie to you i promise   
TG: just trust me when i say it was for the best  
CG: hey, have you ever tried going into comedy?  
CG: i know that music is more your thing but you’re saying some pretty funny things right now.  
TG: shit john im being serious here  
CG: so am i.  
CG: i just don’t understand how you could expect me to sympathize with you after you lied to my face.  
CG: several times, in fact!  
CG: anyway, i should probably get going. karkat and i were in the middle of our talk about why you and him have been killing all of my friends!

What. 

Oh. Oh no. No no no no no-- 

CG: see ya!:)  
TG: no john wait

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

_“Shit,”_ you curse. You dial Karkat’s cell number, knowing it probably won’t work but still hoping. “Come on, come on...”

Nothing.

_“The shadow is active, Knight. It’s still hidden from me but I can feel its power. It’s close. You have to hurry!”_

“I know, I _know.”_ You start to run, barely even feeling it as her claws dig into your shoulder. She takes off to circle above you, so it’s to yourself that you mutter, “And I think I know where it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 4/13!  
> this was originally going to be one big chapter, the last one of real plot, but seeing as how it's been so long and it is national garbage day, i thought i'd just chop it right down the middle.  
> i'm aiming to get the next chapter up by 6/12. fingers crossed!


	17. end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know...I wish we could’ve spent more time together lately,” he says. He sighs, gazing almost sadly at the aforementioned dadly grill. “It feels like we never talk anymore.”
> 
> “Yeah, well.” You try for gruff, end up missing by a mile and falling short and somewhere near “sympathetic”. Gross. “Shit happens. Lots of shit. Ugh.”
> 
> “Ugh,” John agrees.

You palm your phone all the way to John’s house, just in case something happens and it turns out Dave really _does_ need your help, but by the time you get there you’ve been pinged a total of one (1) time, by your dad telling you to  Stay safe! You should invite Dave over for dinner tonight. ;) Haha, as if you’d give Dave the chance to embarrass the both of you in front of your father, after the asshole...already hasn’t made the best impression and your dad seems to want to get to know him better anyway, okay, yeah, maybe it would be a good idea. If your dad is apparently willing to put aside everything that’s happened in favor of some friendly “get to know each other” shtick, you’re not going too look that metaphorical gift horse in the mouth, alright?

Slipping your phone into your pocket, you-- oh. Okay. Nevermind.

John opens the door for you before you have the chance to knock. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. Despite whatever you may think, I am, in fact, capable of walking from point A to point B without somehow getting lost in-between. _That_ ,” you finish, “would be you.”

John has the audacity to pout. “Ouch. Way to hurt my delicate sensibilities, dude. I’m crying.”

You raise an eyebrow at his very tearless face. “No you’re not.”

“Well, duh, you can’t _see_ it. They’re heart tears. They’re on the _inside_.”

“Oh, excuse me for not realizing that sooner.” You roll your eyes. “Did you call me over here because you want me to kiss your emotional boo-boos better, or did you have something else in mind?”

“Oh, yeah.” He steps aside, waving you inside the house. “Let’s go to the back. Dad is at work so you don’t need to worry about him or anything.”

“Well, _duh_ ,” you mock, stepping past him and toward the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. “His car isn’t in the driveway, I could kind of figure that out for myself.”

“Ooh, looks like we’ve got a smartass over here.” John closes the door as he memes at you, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “How do you get so smart? Tell me your secrets, Karkat.”

“No way in hell.” You look around as you step out, trying to find what it is John is apparently trying to show you, but all you can see is normal backyard stuff; chairs, table, one dadly grill, and a good sized patch of well-watered grass. You squint at John as he joins you and get a cheery smile for your efforts.

“Thanks again for coming,” he says, and you scoff as he continues. “I know you were busy.”

“I already said don’t mention it, dumbass. But you’re welcome.” You shrug. “There’s only so long I can suffer through Dave’s monologues anyway. I mean-- what? What’s so funny?” You pin John with a glare as he tries (and fails) to muffle his laughter with a hand.

“ _You’re_ going to complain about monologues? You’re just as bad as he is!”

Oh hell no. “Excuse me? I am so much better than Strider at that shit, and I am offended that you would even think to lower me to his pitiful level of structureless metaphors.”

“Whatever you say, man.” As if his snickering isn’t still giving him away. You have missed this, though; hanging out with John. You haven’t had much of a chance, lately, what with genocidal shadows to take care of, and in the end it just makes you want to get rid of them faster. John’s own thoughts must be running along a similar vein, if his next words are anything to go by. “You know...I wish we could’ve spent more time together lately,” he says. He sighs, gazing almost sadly at the aforementioned dadly grill. “It feels like we never talk anymore.”

“Yeah, well.” You try for gruff, end up missing by a mile and falling short and somewhere near “sympathetic”. Gross. “Shit happens. Lots of shit. Ugh.”

“Ugh,” John agrees. And then, “Too bad we won’t have another chance to hang out after today.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. We’ve been over this, melodrama is not a good look on you, Egbert.” John’s subsequent snickering rings in your ears. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said!” John places a hand on your shoulder. He smiles- well, no. He grins. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, buddy.”

You don’t remember a lot about your childhood. (Yes, yes, you know you are “still a child” technically, shut up, that’s not the point.) There were the parts that mattered, and then there was everything else, and only a few memories were spared from the fuzzy-cut, sun-washed filter of growing up. 

You remember how your elementary school campus had a huge playground, a sprawling metal and plastic jungle gym that seemed to scrape the sky if you looked at it from a certain angle. There was a weird jumble of metal that was supposed to serve as some fucked-up excuse for a “ladder” that lead up to the very top, and of course you were the unlucky bastard who managed to lose his grip somewhere between the upwards climb and the sideways reach to the actual jungle gym itself.

You remember falling. You remember finding yourself on the ground. You remember not being able to breathe.

What happens with John is, of course, nothing at all like that. There’s no sudden drop and no startled teachers running to investigate the screaming when you finally catch your breath. Actually, there’s no catching your breath at all.

It’s like you’ve been punched square in the gut. You waste your last bit of air on a surprised wheeze like a god damn _idiot_ and suddenly there’s nothing; you can feel your diaphragm working to pull air into your lungs but it can’t when there isn’t any air in the first place, oh fuck. You try to wheeze again and fail, clutching ineffectually at your chest. John uses his grip on your shoulder to push you to your knees. You can’t even cry out when your skin scrapes against the concrete.

(The absolute worst part is that six years ago you would have categorized a similar scenario under Secret Fantasies: John Egbert Edition. You’ve never claimed to be anything but a fucking mess.)

(Or maybe the worst part is where you’re, you know, _suffocating to death_. It’s up for debate.)

John says something. At least, you think he does. You can’t hear him very well when your blood is roaring in your ears, each individual cell of it screaming for oxygen you can’t provide. It’s a lesson in agony. You think it might actually tie with serving as a fuckpuppet for an Elder God.

 _Elder Gods..._ That, of all things, catches your attention, and it keeps nagging at you even as your vision starts to fade. Fuck. Fuck fuck. There is a _tearing_ in your chest, in your throat, you can just barely see and you are so _tired_

The sensation of air finally filling your lungs is orgasmic nigh on painful. Bent over the ground, eyes squeezed shut as involuntary tears prick at the corners of your eyes, all you can do is suck in breath after breath and try not to retch.

Oh my god. Fuck. God. Oh my god.

_What the fuck._

“WHAT THE FUCK,” you shout. Or, well, try to; yelling when you still haven’t really caught your breath yet doesn’t prove to be very effective. You look up.

John is...floating.

Okay.

His knees are drawn up to his chest as he just casually sits there a good four feet off the ground, you know, _flying_. There’s an expression of utter glee on his face. You wish you could say it wasn’t something you’d seen before.

The expression. Not the flying. You’re pretty sure you would have noticed the flying.

“John?” you ask, your tone a more than an accurate representation of the confusion you currently feel.

“Duhhh,” John says, sticking out his tongue. “Who else would it be?”

“I’m starting to wonder myself,” you rasp. Oh god. What even is happening right now.

“If only it didn’t have to end this way,” John intones sadly, breezing over you as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “We could’ve had so much _fun_. You and me, taking on the world together like best palhonchos. But,” he says, making a face, “I guess some things just aren’t meant to be!” He shrugs, and you watch as the gesture causes him to bob in the air. 

“What are you talking about,” you ask warily, and slowly start to stand. John doesn’t make a move to stop you. He mostly just rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Dumbass! For all that you talk so much, you sure don’t listen.” He pitches forward suddenly and you start, thinking that he’s about to fall and eat shit on the concrete, but he stops the moment he hits horizontal, his feet kicking lazily in the air as his chin rests on his hand. It almost looks like he’s just laying stomach-down on his couch, sans the couch. Because, oh, did you mention? Your best friend can _fucking FLY._

“Well, I’m listening now.” You keep your gaze steady as John raises an eyebrow. Correction: tries to. He ends up raising both until he looks ridiculous instead of incredulous, because try as he might he’s never been able to pull of the singular eyebrow raise. Even in the face of all this, you guess some things don’t change.

“As much as I would looooove to tell you absolutely everything,” John says, his voice scaldingly sweet and pointed in a way you’re not entirely sure you understand, “I don’t think my friends want me to tell you, and I kind of have to agree!”

“Friends,” you repeat, bewildered, “who the fuck are you--”

But you get it, somewhere between you thinking the question and saying it out loud.

Eldritch Gods.

The last shadow.

All the time you’ve been looking, and it’s been right under your fucking nose.

“Oh god,” you say, “no.”

“Yes!” John _squees_ , gleeful. “There it is! This is going to be so much more interesting now.”

You don’t say anything, too caught up in the implications of what, exactly, is happening here. Because John? John has a shadow riding his ass harder than a cowboy gripping for dear life onto a bull named Shitfuck the Ravager. And this, this right here, this is the worst part: you don’t think you can do anything about it.

 _Ping!_ goes your phone. You jump and scramble for it.

“Ohh, what do we have here?~” John makes a motion with his hand and the phone tears itself out of your grip before you can even unlock it.

“Fuck you, give that back!” 

John only has to hold up a finger though, not even looking at you, for a solid gust of wind to push you back from where you’d tried to take a step forward. Asshole. Livid, you can only wish that you’d taken the time to set up a password as he unlocks your phone without issue.

“Aww,” he says, “it’s Dave, checking up on you! How sweet.” Your blood runs cold as he taps away on the keys. “Eh. I’ll just tell him you’re busy. That’s okay with you, right?”

“Fuck,” you say, and “you.”

“Nah.” He grins at something -- either you, or whatever it is Dave is saying -- before he outright laughs. “Hehe, _algebra assignment_ \-- can you even believe this guy? It’s like he’s not even trying.”

“What are you doing.” He ignores you. “John, what are you telling him.”

“The truth,” he says simply. “You two haven’t stepped up to the plate, and someone has to do it!”

Panic threatens to choke you again. This isn’t good. This is bad, this is so, so bad. “John.” He hums, still not looking up. “John, stop this.”

For the first time, real annoyance crosses John’s features. “No, Karkat.” With one last message, he drops your phone, and even with your life at stake you can’t help your wince at the sound of it hitting the floor. John glares at you in a way you never really thought he could. “ _You_ stop. Do you know how fucking tired I am of you playing all these games?” He throws his arms out to the side, his expression judgemental. “This much! I am this tired, Karkat. Tell me. How long have we been friends?”

He pauses, and you realizes he’s going to make you answer. “...Eight years,” you grit out. “I made fun of your magician costume at halloween and ended up punching you when you pulled a quarter out of my ear and said that must be why I don’t have any room left for an actual brain.”

“Aw, you remember.” He makes as if to wipe a tear from his eye, smiling. “I was kind of wondering if you did. Either way, I guess none of that matters to you, seeing as how you dropped me the second you had a chance.”

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest, but it’s weak, because you kind of did, you really fucking did. 

John just laughs again. You feel sick. “Oh, wasn’t it? Eight fucking years, Karkat! I thought you treasured our friendship the same way I did. You were my best friend. I thought I was yours, too. But then it turns out all it takes is a new kid and a noble enough excuse for you to just shit all over me? No! No, that’s exactly what it was like!”

John’s clothes are whipping in the wind that’s built up out of nowhere, the blue of his eyes popping out between the strands of hair hanging over his face. He is angry. You don’t know if this is the shadow feeding words into his mouth, or if it’s just pushing him to say what he’s been feeling this entire time, but he is pissed as hell.

You can’t even blame him.

“I’m sorry.” Oh, look, you’re pleading now. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please, you have to believe me, I never meant--”

Wrong thing to say. “Oh, I _have_ to, do I?” Fuck. John looks stormy. It’s the only way to describe him, right now. “Well, guess what. I don’t believe you. Too bad, so sad.” He straightens up until he’s vertical again. When he crosses his arms over his chest, you take a small step back, half expecting his every movement to end with you choking on nothing again.

“Okay.” You hold your hands palms-out, placating. You wonder if you could do some sort of blood thing to get yourself out of this, but the wind whips at your hair and you toss that idea to the mental garbage heap in the back of your brain where it belongs. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Of course I am.” John taps a finger against his chin, contemplating you. He almost wavers, you think, and a moment of hope sparks in your chest before it sputters and dies as his expression hardens again. “You’re like, a cornered animal, though. Of course you’d say that.”

“Fuck, John, I mean it!” You end up throwing your hands to the side in frustration before you can think twice about the movement. “I’m sorry! Of course I’m going to try bartering for my life when you’re some fucked up windy boy, but it doesn’t fucking matter when it’s the truth! I never should’ve left.” You pause for a moment, hesitate. John watches you. Damn it. God damn it. You take the plunge. “You know what I’ve learned about the shadows, Egbert?”

That piques his interest. Or maybe his rider’s. “What?”

“They prey on the weak.” You can’t drum up the courage to say this to his face. Or maybe it’s your shame. You look away. “The poor fucks who have cracks in their insecurities that they can worm their way through. The lonely, the guilty, the sad.” You swallow. “The abandoned.” You make yourself look back to him then. His expression is blank. You press on.

“An entire city of unhappy people to choose from and it decided on you. So yeah, I’m fucking sorry. I’m sorry you felt that way and I’m sorry I wasn’t even around to notice. And now you’re stuck serving as a vessel for the grimdark because of my mistakes and I swear I’ll get you out of there, John, cross my heart and hope to bleed out on the pavement, but you have to--”

You’re cut off when the breath is ripped from your lungs, and fear spikes your heart rate up to dangerous because you fucked up, you said the wrong thing, he’s really going to kill you now, but instead you’re just left coughing. Give it up for warning shots. 

“Of course it’s your fault,” John says cheerfully. “What isn’t? But who says I _want_ to leave?”

“I--” 

“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid all the time?” he asks. “Because it sucks! Like, oh, what if my dad finds out, what if my friends find out, what if something happens and everyone realizes I’m a freak or whatever.” He shrugs, smiling. “But this way I don’t have to be afraid anymore! I can do anything I want, and no one can stop me.” His grin softens into something that might be described as sympathetic. “I would say you just wouldn’t understand, but you do, don’t you.”

And you do.

With a shadow on your side, everything is bright and crystal clear and so much _more_. There’s no pain, because you’re more than pain. There’s no fear, because you’re more than fear. There’s only you and endless black and the definite surety that nothing is beyond you. There is _only_ you. Everything and everyone else is...insignificant.

But it’s choking. Stifling. Under a shadow’s influence you don’t matter because it’s _not_ you anymore. The sensation of having your will being overridden like an ant in an infinite, angry sea is one akin only to drowning. 

The power comes with a price. It’s a price John is paying right now.

You have to get him out.

(You failed him once. You won’t fail him again. Not this time.)

“Oh,” John says, interrupting your train of thought. He claps his hands together. “Looks like we have a guest!”

“What?” you ask, but a moment later, you feel it; a heartbeat, beating fast and approaching quickly. Your own heart rate spikes in response. There’s only one person that can be.

The only thing you can do now is wait for him to get here.

_ _

The house is quiet. This is not a good sign.

Numero uno as to why this is not a good sign: Karkat is in that house and that dude is never quiet. Like, seriously. That’s more than enough reason to be uneasy about this entire ordeal.

As if the fact that it looks like your best bro is currently under possession of a shadow god isn’t reason enough.

It’s the little things.

You look up as you approach the door. The sky and the telephone wires are all empty; FB ditched you a while back, and even if there’s not really much she can do to help you in a fight against these things, you’d be lying if you said her presence wasn’t a little bit reassuring. Just a tiny bit. But she’s gone. Looks like you’re going in solo.

You try calling Karkat’s phone one more time. It doesn’t even ring. _This is Karkat, if you don’t know what to do, why and how are you in possession of a phone-- beep._ Alright. That’s cool. Slipping your own phone into your pocket, you take a breath. Showtime.

...The door is open.

Not all the way. Just a little crack of space that means someone wasn’t paying attention, or was in a rush. Not a big deal, right? Or the time to be worrying about this; Karkat and John are in there, and who knows what else. Brows furrowed, you reach forward.

The door creaks open before you fingers can touch the handle.

Okay. Alright. Alright! That’s cool.

You take off your shades.

The house is dark. You follow your gut, trusting your instincts to lead you through.

Also, the talking. The talking helps.

Two voices: John and Karkat’s, too muffled through the walls to hear what it is they’re saying. No screaming. That’s good. That’s always good. The only problem is, when you pad into the living room and peer into the backyard via the glass door, you can’t see John.

It’s just Karkat. His palms are held outwards in a gesture of _look, I’ve got nothing,_ his expression pleading, which just adds another stone to your pile of worries concerning this entire situation, but the part you can’t understand is that he’s looking _up_.

Only for a second. Before you can move any further, Karkat’s gaze slides down to you. He doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised about it. His lips thin into a grim line, his arms lowering, and at that point the only way you could describe him as is defeated. It’s not the most reassuring thing to see. Your heart sinks in your chest.

Once again, the door opens before you can reach it. You can take a hint.

“Hey,” you say, for once not in the mood for jokes. Karkat just nods as you step outside. His eyes flick up again. Following his lead, you turn around.

Holy mother of Christ.

“Why is John flying?” you ask, only able to blink as John waves at you from way too high in the god damn air. So that’s why you couldn’t see him. “Anyone?”

“Pfft,” John says. It’s probably dumb -- scratch that; it is dumb -- but hearing him sound so normal makes you feel a little better. “Someone hasn’t been paying attention. I could always do this!”

That just gives you pause. “Wait, really?” You look over to Karkat, but he just shrugs, looking every bit as lost as you. “I swear to god, dude.” You look up towards the heavens, your shoulders slumping. “ _Anime.”_

“But those usually have good endings,” John adds helpfully. “So if anything it’s probably more like a really angsty fanfiction? I mean. I’m sure you _wish_ that it’s fiction or whatever, buuut.” He shrugs. You wonder how comfortable it is to sit criss cross applesauce on literal air. “What can you do!”

“He has a shadow.” Karkat’s not looking at you when he drops that bit of information right on the table where everyone can give a proper wince. You feel your heart sink a little bit further and wonder if Karkat can tell.

“Can you see it?” you ask, and Karkat shakes his head.

“It’s hidden, remember?”

You did, but. Still. You couldn’t help but hope that it was all just one giant mistake.

It’s not, though. John was right. As much as it feels like it sometimes, now especially, your life is not one gigantic load of fan service and feelings that you can step out of and walk away from whenever shit gets too much for you. This is it. This is happening. 

Karkat glances back at you. Barely for a second, and he goes right back to keeping track of a freefloating John afterward, but you’ve shared enough meaningful Looks the past couple weeks to know what this one means. You take a breath, and don’t bother raising your hands.

The shadow screams. You think John screams, too. But you can’t stop. You’ve got to get everybody out of this, got to fix it, finish this thing for good--

and you

can’t breathe.

You clutch your chest, trying to suck in a breath and failing. Karkat’s hand is on your shoulder, he’s shaking you, and the shadow is still screaming because you won’t stop, you _can’t_ , you have to do this, you’re almost there.

Karkat is shouting “Stop it!” over and over and again. You can’t look away from John, who’s staring you down with his teeth clenched in a grin, and as your diaphragm contracts painfully you’re drawn back to games of checkers, John crowing _“Checkmate, motherfucker!”_ as he took your last king with that same smile on his face. He’s not going to stop, you realize. He’s not even listening.

The shadow’s scream dies with your ability to focus. You’re left breathless still for one moment, two, and then you can breathe again. Karkat steadies you as you sway.

“Breathe,” he instructs you, voice pleading, and you do. Holy fuck. Jesus Christ.

John laughs.

“What the fuck John,” you gasp, so beyond even pretending to be cool right now. “We’re trying to help you, just let us--”

“ _Help_ me,” John repeats, mocking. “Because that’s worked so well for you before. You trying to ‘help me’” he says, air quotes included and all, “is why I’m like this in the first place! Or so I’ve been told.” He smiles down at Karkat at that part, whose grip on your shoulder tightens, and, what. What are you missing here. “So, by all means. Continue helping me I guess.”

“John,” Karkat says, quiet enough that you can barely hear him, and he looks up at your friend with a determined set in his shoulders. “Forgive the cliche of this line but I know you’re in there. It’s hard, but you have to fight it.”

The chances of that working were already pretty low, and they drop to zero when John gives Karkat an incredulous look. “Nope.”

“Oh my god, come on!” Karkat lets go of your shoulder, then. Oh boy. “If there’s anyone stubborn enough to shake this thing off just for cause of being a contrary little shit then it’s you!”

John props his chin on his hand, contemplating Karkat deeply. “Yeah, okay, but nah.”

“Fucking,” Karkat says, hands going to his hair, “case in point. Right there.” And he deflates. Just a little bit. Hands still fisted in his hair in the trademark gesture of frustration, he stares down at the ground, all of you truly quiet for the first time since you’ve stepped out here. 

You should probably do something, right? Trying to talk John down obviously isn’t going to work; Karkat’s already tried and failed. Running through possible options in your head, you consider flashstepping your way up to John and tackling him to the ground. You consider throwing a rock at him. You consider running the time forward on his clothes until all he’s wearing is his birthday suit and he’s forced to surrender from sheer embarrassment. Honestly, every single one of those are excellent ideas, thanks. They just probably, you know. Wouldn’t work.

Oh, alright, Karkat is talking now.

“You know what? Fine.” He takes a step forward. He should not be doing that, that is a very bad idea, Karkat why. His hands aren’t in his hair anymore, instead balled up at his sides. “You’re right. Everything you’ve said, correct, true, confirmed, fucking all of it.”

John rolls his eyes. “I know, you’ve already said this like--”

“No,” Karkat interrupts. “I’m done pretending. You’re right. All my life I’ve been surrounded by fucking idiots. You think I _wouldn’t_ ditch you the second I had the chance?” Wait, what? You look between the two of them, Karkat refusing to look away from John and John blinking back at Karkat with a bewildered expression on his face. “So, yeah, guess what. I started hanging out with Dave to get away from you. Whoop de doo! But you got one thing wrong.” He points a finger at John, every line of his face drawn in disdain. “I _never_ liked you.”

If Karkat notices the way the wind dies down at that, he doesn’t show it.

“I felt _sorry_ for you,” he continues. “Ever since I’ve met you all you’ve been is a whiny little kid who’s refused to stop being the most annoying bucktoothed thorn in my side. You’re still doing it now! Getting so depressed about me hanging out with someone who _isn’t you_ that you attracted a god damn shadow?” Karkat sneers. “Fucking pathetic. So don’t talk to me about whose fault this is. Even if it was mine, it’d only be because I bothered humoring you in the first--”

You probably should’ve seen the cut-off coming, considering. It still manages to take you off guard. One second Karkat’s taking you on a surprise feels trip and the next he’s stumbling back, the air that had been so still a moment before starting up again with a vengeance. Your shades go flying from where you’d propped them up in your hair-- oh fuck, this is not good, this isn’t good at all.

John’s crying.

At least, you think he is. His face is scrunched up like there should be tears streaming down his face, but if there are any the wind is whipping them away too fast for you to see them. 

You’re a little distracted with trying to figure out where the fuck that all came from.

Karkat is silent now, in any case, although whether that’s because you can’t hear him over the wind or he literally can’t find the air to talk is up for debate. He’s certainly scowling hard enough to make up for every word he can’t say, but even as you watch you can see his throat working to hold in breath he can’t afford to lose. John’s got him. This is so _not good._

“Listen,” you try, having to raise your voice to even hear yourself, “I don’t know what all that shit was about but can we like, discuss our feelings like actual functioning adults here? You know, with words?” You glance around for your shades, despite yourself. Nowhere to be found. Awesome. “And considering _I’m_ the one saying this I think you should give that option some serious thought instead of, I don’t know, murdering our good friend Karkat here, Egbert.” 

He’s going to get hurt if John doesn’t let up _right now_. Hair blowing everywhere in the wind, it’s hard to see exactly what’s going on, but Karkat’s shoulders are starting to shake, fingers clasped over his hands and mouth in an attempt to not breathe out what air he has left. John, meanwhile, doesn’t even blink at your attempt to talk him out of making a mistake you can’t see him ever forgiving himself for, not if you manage to get him out of this. Scratch that: if you lose Karkat here (which you aren’t, you’re not, you can’t), there _is_ no getting out of this. Karkat’s ability to finish the jobs you start is why you even pursued a relationship with him in the first place. Even if things between you two are so much more than that now, the original point still stands. Chances of pulling a miracle out of your ass? Slim. Nonexistent. Chances of everything falling apart if Karkat dies here? Definite. Guaranteed.

(And who cares about what happens to the rest of the world? All you can think about is Karkat’s friends, his heartbroken dad, a whole lifetime of moments and mistakes he’d never have. What could even compare to that? Not the universe. Not even close.)

If you lose Karkat now, screw John. You don’t think you could forgive yourself.

You cup your hands at the sides of your mouth and shout as the wind rises in volume again. “John!” He ignores you, attention reserved solely for Karkat. Fuck. “Fuck it.”

When you step forward, the wind picks up even further immediately. You ignore it, though, and reach out to take Karkat’s arm. You’ll drag him out of here if you have to. You’ll take a good abscond over a dead boyfriend any day.

Your hand doesn’t even get close. As if sensing your intentions (which, let’s be real here, is pretty fucking likely all things considered), a gust of wind shoves into you, pushing you off balance and forcing you back. _“Fuck,”_ you curse, glancing back up at John in case you suddenly find yourself needing to dodge.

He’s still not looking at you.

Wait.

Vantas, you clever fucking bastard.

The moment you get the idea is about the same time you find yourself filled with equal measures of hope and downright anger. Hope, because now you see exactly what he’s doing and why, and even more so because it might actually _work_. Anger, because it’s a stupid plan and you can’t believe he would just throw himself into mortal peril like that.

Well. You can, actually. It kind of makes it worse that it’s taken you this long to realize what you’re supposed to do when you look at it that way.

“Checkmate,” you mutter, but John doesn’t hear you. 

How could he?

He’s too distracted with Karkat, after all.

You wrench time forward with all you’ve got.

The shadow screams. You think _you_ scream, for how hard you’re trying to get this done while you have the chance. The shadow makes you fight for every single second. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised; while Mr Vantas’s shadow had surfaced as a last-ditched effort to survive, and Rose’s had spent all those years biding its time, John’s has been expecting you. It’s been preparing. 

Just not enough.

The shadow crashes into reality with a screech that could teach some things to some nails and a chalkboard. Welp. You pinch your nose preemptively. 

Oh hey. The wind stopped.

Underneath the cover of far too many limbs is John, laying with his back on the floor and, as far as you can see, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. One less problem to worry about. For now, anyway.

Karkat.

John’s not the only one on the floor; Karkat’s bent over the ground with his head between his arms, his shoulders heaving. Relief threatens to make you dizzy. You were scared, for several long moments, that you’d been too late.

Hoping it’ll help you stay under the shadow’s radar for a few seconds longer, you kneel on the ground and make your way over to where Karkat’s still catching his breath. You nudge him lightly. You only notice how tense he was until it leaves him slumped and shaking.

 _“Fuck,”_ he breathes.

“Yeah.” You take the hand he holds out, helping him sit back up. You don’t think you could’ve helped the way you squeezed it for a moment before letting it go. “You ready to finish this?”

He doesn’t answer you. No “fuck yes I am” or “what do you think” or even a short, exhausted nod. He just looks up and meets your eyes.

And with a last, dying scream, it’s done.

“Uggghh,” Karkat says, covering his face with his hands.

“Same.” You move to stand, holding a hand out for him again. Glancing up from his little bubble of despair, he makes a face before taking it and getting to his feet.

“Fuck,” he says again. Then, emphatically, “ _John_.”

“John,” you agree. Both of you look over to where he’s still unconscious on the floor.

Karkat sighs and walks over. With a grimace, he bends down and somehow manages to pick him up, one arm over his back and another under his knees. You hurry to slide open the door for him again as he moves to make his way into the house.

“So,” you start. “Where’s his dad, anyway?”

“Work. Or something,” he grits out. You get the feeling that he tries to lay John down more gently on the living room couch than he actually does, but he must be a bit too heavy for the guy. It’s the thought that counts.

“Should we, uh.” Glancing around the backyard for your shades on last time proves to be a fruitless effort. You give it up for a lost cause as you step inside, sliding the door shut behind you. “Should we go, or?”

Karkat raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s settled down in an armchair on the other side of the couch.

“...Right,” you say, making your way over. You could probably sit on the other armchair, buut. It’s so far away.

“It’s already going to be hard enough to explain everything as it is.” Karkat shifts a little to make room for you as you sit on the arm of the chair. “I’d rather be here to apologize to him as soon as he wakes up instead of just letting him make assumptions for himself.”

“About everything you said?”

“Well.” He grimaces, faintly. “Yeah. And...other stuff. Christ,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is all so fucked up.”

“Just think about it this way.” You tap his foot with yours to make sure he’s listening. “We kind of just saved the world, dude.”

He doesn’t say anything. You’re starting to think that he really didn’t hear you or something when he sighs again, and mutters something into his palms.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, so what?” He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “So what? John probably hates me now and I can’t even blame him. What about-- what about everyone else who’s like us? And then there’s the issue of what the hell I’m supposed to do with my powers now that I have nothing to do with them. How the fuck am I supposed to go back to how things were before after all _this_ , you know?” He makes a frustrated, aborted gesture with his hand. “I just. So what?”

Yikes. You take his hand before he can hurt someone with it. “So we figure it out. And John doesn’t hate you. Come on, man, you know this.” You pause, but he doesn’t answer, his gaze focused on the boy lying on the other couch. “John’s like, your best friend or some shit. And as for everyone else, we can, I don’t know, see what we can find out about them. Hell, maybe John knows something. It’s not all doom and gloom from here on out. We’ve got all the time in the world to make this work.”

He’s quite for one more moment before he sighs. “I don’t know how, but. Fuck it, you’re probably right. What is this world coming to?” He snorts. And then, quietly, as if repeating it to himself more than anything, “We can make this work.”

He’s the one to squeeze your hand this time, and you don’t disappoint when it comes to squeezing back. 

He smiles up at you, then. It’s hardly the biggest smile you’ve ever seen; you’ve witnessed wider grins on text emoticons. But his eyes crinkle up, his features transforming from weary to alive in a matter of seconds, and you find yourself smiling back.

It’s the first smile you’ve seen from him that isn’t a relic from the past or touched with madness.

It’s pretty damn amazing.

 

> Live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is it. on the two year anniversary of this fic, it's finally over.
> 
> i'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with wtfeit from the very beginning, and all of you who've stuck through to read it to the end regardless! it's been one wild, inconsistent ride, and in the end i'm glad to put this one to rest. it, and you, deserve it.
> 
> on that note, while this fic is done for good, i may do one or two shorts at some unknown time in the future expanding on certain things. otherwise, i'm eager to finally move on to other stuff without the weight of this story on my shoulders!
> 
> again, thank you all. it really means a lot <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> YO! FANART TIME!! :D A LOT A LOT A LOT OF THANKS TO IMACHIPMONK FOR [THIS BEAUTIFUL THING](http://onthestraightandnarrowpath.tumblr.com/image/116006910283). Eeeeee every time I think about it I lose all coherent thought and roll all over the floor. *ahem* my apologies. But definitely go leave some wonderful comments for them :DD
> 
> Also [Rose and Dave from chapter 10 and 11](http://calliopin-around.tumblr.com/post/94885134635/this-fic-is-so-good-im-crying-im-in-love-w-all-of)! Look at it it's so awesome holy hell.
> 
> Thank you both so much. <3 <3 <3


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